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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557579">I did not come into this world to be comforted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridogorgia/pseuds/Iridogorgia'>Iridogorgia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM overtones, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Politics, Porn With Plot, Secret Relationship, Symbolism, Talanji being a leader, but she will kill people, bwonsamdi origins, god-level coersion, peripheral lesbians, rakera is a good egg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:08:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridogorgia/pseuds/Iridogorgia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She closed her eyes and a trance came over her for a moment, the birdsong and burble of a nearby stream almost as sacred as a loa speaking to her.  It felt holy, this small patch of dirt, undisturbed and bursting with life.</p><p>Or</p><p>Talanji becomes something much larger than she ever thought she could be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bwonsamdi/Talanji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I came, like a red bird, to sing.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He smelled it the instant he materialized in the room.</p><p>Her rage had been palatable across the bond of loa and queen, the part of him that was always listening for her, ever in the back of his mind to come if she needed him.  She was often angry, always a little annoyed, but Talanji was rarely so frustrated that she hissed.  The deep blood red of her emotions has been foundless, as far as he could tell.  He was curious, bored, and decided to pop in on the little queen to see if he could be of service.  </p><p>Now that he knew the source, it made more sense than anything else possibly could have.</p><p>Talanji was in heat.</p><p>He felt a shiver go down his spine, instincts older than himself rising to the surface.</p><p>Bwonsamdi floated in her chambers, invisible, observing.  Talanji was irritated, evidently having dismissed her servants, and she picked up her heavy skirts only to fling them down.  She’d removed her earrings, the delicate ridges and whorls of her ears shining with light. Her hair was out of its customary bun that sat under her crown, the cap of her tunic rumpled on the bed.  She wore her thick, luxurious hair in tiny box braids, and the sight of them swaying down her back caught him off guard.</p><p>Under the thick curtain of hair, her back was bare.</p><p>She was in her basest of undergarments, breasts bound by a thick strap of linen and leather shorts that laced to the knee, the same white as her discarded tunic.  Her silver-blue skin was tinted dusky lilac by a flush of arousal, her scales gleaming, her eyes blazing as she turned in circles around her bed.</p><p>“What is <em> wrong </em> with ya, Talanji?” she muttered to herself, running elegant fingers through her braids.</p><p>He stopped himself short of appearing before her, considering.</p><p>She didn’t know.</p><p>He ran a skeletal hand down his face.</p><p>Of <em> course </em> she didn’t know.  Her mother had died in childbirth, and Rastakhan would have pitched himself off a cliff rather than explain to his only daughter what it meant to go into heat.  He’d protected the image of her as an innocent until the very end.  She had friends, of a sort, but it was impossible for her to have the type of friend that she could talk to about this.  There would always be that barrier between them of rank and class.  Nobody would openly talk to their queen of private reproductive manners, and it was highly unlikely that she’d been social enough to be in circles when other female trolls went into heat for the first time.  Even Apari, her childhood friend, wouldn’t have thought to bring it up.  And by the time they were old enough, well.  They hadn’t exactly been talking then.</p><p>If she never asked, nobody would have thought to tell.</p><p>The only other thing he could think of was Royal doctors, medics to examine her and talk discreetly about such things, but why would a priest that could heal herself ever make use of such staff?  She mostly delegated them to caring for her council and heroes like the little zappy boy, the Ambassador that he’d wound up having to pull from the Maw regardless of their valiant efforts.</p><p>No.  Despite her penchant for violence, her willingness to kill, in this manner, Talanji was truly innocent.  And a late bloomer at that.  Most trolls went into heat by sixteen, Talanji was somewhere between eighteen and twenty, by his best guess.  Immortality did fuzzy things to concepts like age.</p><p>She unconsciously rubbed those muscular thighs together and made a whine in the back of her throat, fingers going to the laces.</p><p>Just then, there was a knock at the door.</p><p>Talanji froze, braids streaming over one shoulder and fingers just touching her lower belly, where the laces were tied in a neat bow.</p><p>“Who-” her voice broke and she licked her lips, trying again, “Who is it?”</p><p>“It’s Ro’jin, ya majesty, and I-”</p><p>A servant.  Or guard.  Or someone else inconsequential.  But <em> male. </em></p><p>Bwonsamdi was overcome by an irrational rage, the presence of another male making him throw his shoulders back and stretch himself to his full height in a display meant to intimidate.  An echo to his long-lost mortality.  If this Ro’jin opened that door, he would certainly smell what Bwonsamdi smelled, and he didn’t want to think about the implications of that.</p><p>It was a good thing that, if he remembered correctly, Zandalari females went into heat only a few times in their life.  The scent would make any troll go wild, fighting those closest to him for a chance to bed her.  Bwonsamdi was stronger than any living thing, and he would not, <em> could not</em>, restrain himself in the face of these ancient instincts.  He doubted Talanji would forgive him for snapping Ro’jin’s head off in a fit of passion, servant or no.</p><p>He materialized suddenly, feet flat on the floor, and yanked the door open.  He ignored Talanji’s sputtering behind him, looking down his long nose at the little Zandalari and sneered, “The princess is <em> busy, </em> mon, and you’ll not bother us again, aye?”</p><p>The door slammed before too much of her scent could get out, and he waved his hand to lock it.</p><p>“Bwonsamdi!”  She was standing with her hands fisted on her hips, glaring up at him.  “Get out!”</p><p>“No.”  He turned, towering over her, and took a deep breath in.  She sat on his tongue, thick and honeyed, the scent of ripe fruit about to split, the aroma of loamy jungle, hot and ready to <em> grow. </em>  He nearly moaned with the headiness of it.</p><p>“What are you-” her voice dropped off, her eyes went heavy and she breathed him in return.  He knew what she was doing, even if she didn’t.  She was scenting him back, tasting his virility on the air.  He was the loa of death, and he often smelled like it, but in situations like this, his own musk would overpower anything else.</p><p><em> I am strong, </em> it would tell her, <em> I will give you children stronger than both of us.  I am ready for you. </em></p><p>Powerful instincts were overtaking her, definitely influencing him, and he let them.</p><p>If anything had ever made him doubt her power, this dismissed it.  She had to be nearly strong as a loa to rouse him.  He’d been called by followers before, troll women in the grip of their heat with no way to get the release they craved, and he was very good at ignoring their scent.  It tickled him to see them on the ground before him, writhing and moaning, begging for him to give them relief.</p><p>Whether or not he did depended on his mood, and more often than not his mood leaned toward sadism and denial.</p><p>But on the rare occasions when he’d granted his support to their lust, it had never been <em> fully </em> him<em>. </em>  It seemed a doubtlessly stupid idea to get a lowly mortal pregnant, little half-loas running about, it wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to claim responsibility for.  He’d used his hands, large as they were, and over the millennia he’d gotten quite good at it.</p><p>He used those same hands now, white bone gleaming against her skin as he gripped the swell of one hip rising over her shorts.</p><p>“I don’t-”  Her eyes were so dark as to be nearly the color of the night sky, a faint glow all that remained of their natural color.  She was trembling beneath him, tight as a string, ready to be plucked.</p><p>He was so aroused, so hard, he’d never been affected this way, that he didn’t even think to tease her.  “You’re in heat, Talanji, and I’m here to mate ya.”  The words felt like someone else was saying them, someone far away and out of his reach, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.</p><p>He ducked his head and oh, her face so perfectly between his tusks, hard bone pressing gently into the springiness of her cheeks, and he breathed her in again, noting the changes in her scent, the liquid heat that ran through it, the spice of her arousal and a slight fringe of panic around the edges.</p><p>He touched his lips to hers, soft as a whisper, and waited for half a heartbeat to see what she would do.  She hesitated, almost pulled back, then her nose flared and she scented <em> his </em> arousal.  He knew what he smelled like; deep, earthy, discontentedly <em> alive. </em></p><p>She whined against him, lips barely brushing his, and it struck Bwonsamdi as somehow fundamentally <em> wrong. </em></p><p>“I need ya to understand,” he whispered against her, “I need ya head clear.  Don’t worry, Bwonsamdi gonna help ya.”</p><p>He pulled his face away from hers with difficulty, then picked her up as if she weighed no more than a feather.  His tusks were large, impressive, and perfectly curved to accommodate her powerful thighs.  Conveniently, they were also angled to keep them spread just far enough apart for his face to fit between.</p><p>He walked toward the nearest flat surface, pressing her back against the raised motif of an upper wall, and lifted her up until he could neatly slot each thigh through the hook of his tusks.  She gripped his wild black hair with both hands, fisting them painfully and he groaned with the pleasure sparking down his spine.</p><p>He ran one bony finger down the laces of her shorts, magic unfurling them faster than hands could, and he impatiently conjured them off of her.</p><p>The first true blast of her heat, unhidden and spread in front of him like a feast, almost knocked him off his feet with the potency of it.  She smelled like everything she had before, but <em> deeper. </em>  More potent, sweeter, darker, irresistible.</p><p>The juncture of her thighs was moist, her nectar dripping off her spread folds, all of her secrets laid before him like the most delightful story.  She was neatly groomed, her hair silky and dusky violet, her skin soft and dark, engorged with blood.  So sensitive that she nearly shrieked when he blew gently on her puffy lips.  He wasted no time in leaning forward to lick her obscenely.</p><p>At the first taste, his cock sprang up into a painful hardness, and he grunted.  One hand went up to Talanji’s sternum, steadying her, and the other went down to wrap around himself.  He took off his rough skirt and threw it on the floor violently.  Talanji herself was making wild noises, shrieks and groans and whimpers, hisses and sobs, so caught up in her first heat that she couldn’t even form coherent words.</p><p>His feet pressed harder into the ground, leaning his head into her as she inched up the wall he pinned her to.  His hand was cold on his cock, the bones pronounced ridges, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her.  She was calling to be filled by him, his tongue adequate but not what she <em> needed. </em></p><p>He imagined what her own hand, dainty and callused, would feel like stroking him and he moaned with the realization that one of her hands would likely not be able to fully encircle him.  The reverberations of his moan sent shocks through her and she clenched herself on his tongue.  He slipped it further inside of her, flattened it, turned his head up, and <em> sucked. </em></p><p>The seal formed between his mouth and the most sensitive part of her was too much.  She shrieked again, higher and louder than before, curling over the top of his head as her hips canted themselves against his face helplessly.  The sudden rush of lubrication down his chin made his cock pulse once, twice, and his artless performance had them both orgasming violently.</p><p>His seed plastered the wall, and he drank from her wellspring as deep as he could.</p><p>He’d licked her for less than five minutes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When enraged, and in heat, a female troll can mate over 80 times in one night. Be you prepared? &lt;&lt;&lt;&lt; The troll flirt that got this whole ball rolling.</p><p>So this started because I reeeeeeally wanted to write Bwonsamdi/Talanji porn, and then in a classic me move, I gave it something like a plot and made it 30k+ words.  All because I wanted them to bone, and then proceed to have no penetration for like ten chapters.</p><p>The lore for Warcraft is really confusing, so I'm just going to go my own way and interpret it the best way I understand it.  It's probably gonna be wrong, and I know it's not gonna mesh with Shadowlands, so I want to pump it out before it's officially released.  It's gonna be a real fun ride!</p><p>PS I always saw Talanji as having a super high bun of box braids under her crown, and her hair being the same shade as her father's.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. But I'm not a red bird.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside of the Queen’s chambers, Ro’jin and General Rakera stared at each other.</p><p>“Do not,” she whispered between clenched teeth, “mention this to <em> anyone </em> else.”</p><p>His gaze slid over to the door, hands tightening into fists, and it was only when the iron bar of Rakera’s arm slammed in front of him that he realized he’d been reaching for the door.  To open it, challenge Bwonsamdi’s burgeoning claim to the Queen, assert himself as the dominate male, claim her, top her, bury himself-</p><p>Rakera was looking at him seriously.  “If you go in dere, he will kill ya.  You know it, I know it.  It’s her first heat, and if it’s powerful enough to rouse a <em> loa?</em>”  She shook her head.  “Ya have no chance, mon.”</p><p>He couldn’t speak for fear of what he would say.  His mouth tightened and he looked at the door again.</p><p>Rakera looked at him and saw what any good head of household security would see: a threat to the security of her Queen’s reign.</p><p>And who was he?  A servant, from the kitchens, sent up to let the Queen know that breakfast would be late and small.  Trade still hadn’t come back to what it was, since the strike from Widow’s Bite, and the rebels had torched much of the arable land around the city.  He was new.  That was why he’d rushed to get the General herself in such a panic at what he thought was a threat to the safety of the Queen. It was only lucky that she’d been so close to her chambers, to get here so quickly.</p><p>Nobody would really miss him.  She would spread a rumor that he’d fallen in love with one of the fishermen, or women, down at the docks and begged leave to wed.  They’d left on a boat, any boat, to start over somewhere new.</p><p>She weighed the cost of the servant’s life against the damage of the fact that Bwonsamdi <em> himself </em> was likely bedding the queen behind that door.  Her lips tightened at the remembrance of the slurs against the Queen and loa’s relationship that very moment, overheard on a brisk morning perimeter sweep.</p><p>This was knowledge that could bring the fall of the Zandalari empire.</p><p>She didn’t have to think twice before gripping the servant by the upper arm.</p><p>“Come.  Queen Talanji will be wanting a special berry with her breakfast, since the meal today will be so poor.  I know just where it is, and the way be dangerous.  I’ll escort you.”</p><p>Nobody would find the body.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When they both came up for air some minutes later, he gently untangled her from his tusks and set her on the ground.  He kept one hand on her, to help her keep her balance, and she swayed for a moment.</p><p>“I’m really in heat,” she whispered thickly, her legs shaking, and her gaze was internal as she muttered, “None of the books ever described it like <em> that!</em>”</p><p>He laughed against her, braced one hand above her and crouched down to be level with her face. He made a show of breathing her in, her taste still thick in his mouth.  His tongue came out to play over his bottom lip and her breathing caught.  He caught her gaze and winked, allowing his eyes to wander down her body, pausing on the juncture of her thighs, and he felt her gaze stuck somewhere over his shoulders.</p><p>“Bwonsamdi,” she said, her voice tight, “You aren’t wearing anything.”</p><p>He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.  His backplate with its many ornaments clattered to the ground, and he leered at her, “No, <em> now </em> I’m not wearing anything. Ya <em> Majesty.” </em>  He let the world roll obscenely in his mouth.</p><p>Talanji was a brave troll, but this was entirely new territory.  She’d seen naked males before, as a healer, but they’d always been four steps away from being in the less-pleasurable embrace of Bwonsamdi himself.  Their penises had always seemed soft, flaccid, harmless.  Like snakes or fat little worms.  She’d never thought of the male organ in a sexual way before.  She knew the mechanics of sex well enough, but to be in the grip of it?</p><p>The thought of what lay between Bwonsamdi’s legs, half-hard at the moment but a quick glance confirmed that it was proportionately <em> huge, </em>inside of her, filling her, penetrating-</p><p>A heat flooded between her legs again and she trembled.  Bwonsamdi rumbled in front of her, the fire of his eyes banked into smoldering embers, but he didn’t reach for her.  Didn’t move at all.</p><p>“I can smell you,” she whispered.</p><p>A grin stretched across his terrible face, “Can ya now?  What does ol Bwonsamdi smell like, ya Majesty?”</p><p>“Like a storm.  Like lightning and thunder and the smell of the jungle after heavy rain.  Like… like…”  She struggled for a minute and found her heart racing, her thighs slippery and one hand resting low on her belly, cradling her womb.</p><p>“Not like death?”  He prompted her gently, and she shook her head.</p><p>“No,” she sounded amazed, far away, “Not at all like death.”</p><p>Slowly, he reached for her.  She quaked but didn’t run, as one hand slid up her thigh to bury itself into her heat.  He slid his fingers along her, giving her friction and pressure where she needed it most, and Talanji closed her eyes, trying to fight against the urge to rut against his hand, trying to be disgusted by the feel of bones against her most private place, but her body decided for her.  And it decided that it <em> liked </em> it.  She felt her hips jerk against him and whimpered, his hand slowly guiding her into a steady pace.</p><p>“A loooong time ago,” he started slowly, leaning his head toward her but keeping his eyes on the place where his hand was buried, “I was a troll, like any other.”</p><p>She stilled at that, but a twitch of his thumb sent her rolling her hips against him once more.</p><p>“And when I say ‘long ago’, ya Majesty, I mean a very long time ago.  My cities, my people, are nothing more than dust in the ground.  Not even memories remain.”  He blinked slowly, tilting his head and breathing her in.</p><p>He hummed against her, his tusks brushing her shoulder. “Ya smell so good.  Ya remind me of what I used to be.  Not always a loa, hm?”  His free hand reached up to tap his bony growth on his face.  “This used to be a mask!  I don’t even remember what my face looks like under here.”  He curled his fingers against her and she arched her back, whining.</p><p>“In all this time,” his voice was deeper, darker, “never have I answered the call of a female in heat.”  His free hand reached out, gently, and took her own, bringing it down to cup between his legs.  They both gasped, “And now, Talanji, I cannot help but be reduced to a mortal, wanting to rut between your legs.  Wantin’ to own ya, claim ya, never let ya go.”</p><p>He curled her fingers around him as he hardened and felt a moment of smugness - her fingers <em> didn’t </em> reach all the way around him.  Then she squeezed experimentally and it took everything he had to not pick her up and slam himself inside of her.</p><p>“I don’t know what it means,” he gasped, and she panted against him.  “What are ya, Talanji?  What are ya to call Bwonsamdi himself to your side, reduce him to <em> this?” </em></p><p>“Bwonsamdi,” Talanji’s voice was little more than a growl, plaintive and high, “I need-”</p><p>“I know what ya need.”  He thrust his hips against her hand and she screwed her eyes shut, panting.</p><p>“I need you to go.”</p><p>He stilled, his fingers still pressing against her, her hand still tight on his cock, and he blinked.  “Come again?”</p><p>She was quivering, soaked in sweat, but she caught his eye and he saw her strength there.  “I need ya to go, Bwonsamdi.”</p><p>Everything in him rebelled at the idea.  Leave her?  Let another male come in, take what everything in his very <em> bones </em> said was his?  He pictured the little servant rutting on top of her, his back hunched and his hair limp, and he snarled.  “Who else are you gonna call, little Queen?  Hm?  Who you gonna replace Bwonsamdi with?”  He thrust himself into her hand slowly, letting her feel the girth of him, telling her that she would never find a subject in her kingdom that would satisfy her like he could.</p><p>“Nobody,” she shuddered, her fingers tracing the veins of him.  “I’ll be callin’ nobody, I’ll suffer through it on my own.”</p><p>“You don’t understand,” he hissed, infuriated,  “Your body calls me, Talanji, as strong as the call of any loa I have ever felt.  You would <em> deny-” </em></p><p>“Myself, Bwonsamdi!”  She let go of him reluctantly, giving him a final stroke before releasing him.  “You think I don’t want ya to bend me over and take me like a beast?  To mate me, over and over, until I am full?”  His hand was still on her, and he did not let her go.  His eyes flamed, bright white, and the full weight of his attention was on her.</p><p>She reached up and took handfuls of braids, tugging at them in distress.  “I want it more than I can say!  But I am a queen, Bwonsamdi, you know it!  My people barely accept you as my loa, and to have you in place of a living king?  They would depose me!”</p><p>His face grew intent, dangerous, and he interrupted her, “If anyone were to try to harm you now, my Queen, they would die before they stood.  I would take their souls-”</p><p>“You can’t!”  She ran her hands over her face.  “You can’t just kill everyone who would wish me harm, or I would rule over a kingdom of bone!  You can’t even give me children, Bwonsamdi.”  She peeked out from between her fingers, puzzled.  “Can you?”</p><p>He sat back on his heels, not removing his hand from the moist heat it was wedged in.  He rolled his shoulders thoughtfully.  “Truly, I do not know.  I’ve never tried to make one as a loa.”  He tilted his head at her.</p><p>“Talanji,” he started, but she shook her head.</p><p>“It cannot happen, Bwonsamdi, and for the sake of my kingdom, and myself, I must tell ya to go.”</p><p>His head snaked closer, once again fitting her face between his tusks.  Her eyes, of their own volition, went heavy and fell to his mouth.  “I’ll go, my Queen, but know this.  If you bring another troll here, to ya bed, he gonna meet an unfortunate end, hm?”</p><p>He pressed his forehead to hers, a desperate showing of affection, and thrust his hand up against her, a tantalizing pressure, then he vanished.</p><p>Talanji gasped at the lack of him and collapsed to the ground.  Aching, unfulfilled, empty.  She roared in frustration and hung her head in her hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oh no it's plot!</p><p>So I scoured the internet for anything related to troll mating rituals, so now my browser history is super weird, and I didn't find really anything official, only a bunch of speculation.  Only about that one quote, which coupled with the Darkspear troll's temperament, tells me that a 'heat' is something strong, violent, and probably doesn't occur too often.  I'm leaning pretty heavily on some of the troll's more base instincts and playing a looooot with troll physiology in this fic.  It's a pretty interesting thing to explore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. With his head mop of flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, after she’d slept, meditated, and furiously rutted against her own hand in cycles, Talanji firmly rebound her breasts, laced up her breeches, and smoothed her tunic up over her head.  She pulled her braids up through the opening at the top of the cap, pulled them into a tight bun and secured it.  Her skirts were tied, their heavy ornaments weighing on her, and she fastened all of her bracelets, necklaces, and earrings.</p><p>She stood before the door and slid the crown on her head, holding her neck steady.</p><p>She was a Queen, and she had a job to do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rakera caught her an hour later, begging her leave in front of the servants to discuss a matter of utmost discretion.  Talanji agreed and they quickly found a bolthole of a room in an unused wing of the palace.</p><p>Talanji looked at her with a mixture of concern and annoyance.  She always looked annoyed these days.  “General Rakera.  You have my attention.  Is this news of Sylvanas Windrunner?”</p><p>Rakera ran a hand across the bald half of her skull and decided to speak frankly.  “No.  Have ya been mated?”</p><p>The Queen froze, her hands clenching her arms.  Her silence stretched out and Rakera rolled her eyes.  “The servant, Ro’jin, smelled ya, last week when <em> Bwonsamdi </em> came to the door and all but told him that he intended to mate ya shortly.  He got me, and I <em> heard </em> ya. Through the door.”  Rakera raised one groomed eyebrow.  “Ya be a loud lover, your Majesty.”</p><p>Talanji’s spine was straight as an arrow, rigid and unbending.  She was staring at Rakera with disbelief.  “I-”</p><p>“I took care of the servant.  Ya don’t need to worry about word getting out.  But I need to know, and I need to know now, if you’ve mated a <em> loa.  </em> Specifically <em> that </em> loa.”</p><p>“Who else knows?”  Talanji hissed, neatly sidestepping the question.</p><p>“About the heat, or about <em> him?” </em>  Rakera leaned against the back wall and crossed her arms.  “Only Ro’jin and I know about Bwonsamdi, and only one of us is in a position to talk about it. There are rumors that if you haven’t been in heat yet, you’re about to be.  Your temper has been a little… wild, as of late.”</p><p>All of the anger left her instantly, and she deflated into a chair, her head in her hand.  “I am unmated.”</p><p>Rakera lifted an eyebrow.  “Really.”</p><p>“Yes, really.  I could not do it!  Me, mating with a <em> loa? </em>  If I was just some priestess, maybe.  It would matter so little.  But I am a Queen, responsible for my people, and me mating a loa would be like me mating a Tauren or an undead!”  Rakera winced, but Talanji pushed on.  “Neither one could give me heirs, destabilizing my rule and my bloodline, threatening the very kingdom itself!  I would be deposed, and rightfully so.”  She ran her hands over her face.</p><p>“We don’t know that he wouldn’t give you heirs.”  Rakera felt obligated to point out.  She studied her hands for a moment.  “Mating with a loa has not occurred, and if it has we haven’t recorded it, which means that we haven’t had any incidents of half-loa births that were distinguishable from normal births.  Did his, ah, equipment… function?”</p><p>Talanji’s face darkened with embarrassment.  “Rakera!”  She remembered the solid weight of him in her hand, growing under her touch, and the sound he made when she stroked him.  Reluctantly, she whispered, “He was… intact.  We didn’t, that is, there was no… I remain distinctly unmated!”</p><p>Rakera nodded.  “I understand, my Queen.  I… You may want to center yourself.  Patrol the perimeter.  Get out of the palace.  But first, talk to a healer.”  Talanji rolled her eyes but Rakera held up a hand.  “Your heat is a matter of heirs, yes?  You are fertile now.  If you had mated during your heat, you likely would have fallen pregnant.  It’s become a matter of the kingdom, your ability to bear those children.  A healer should be consulted, to put any speculation to rest.  I will send one to your chambers now.”</p><p>Without waiting for a reply, Rakera took to the door in three strides.  She yanked it open, verified there was nobody on the other side, and then nodded her head.  “Come.  I will see you to your guards and they will escort you to your chambers.  As your general, I insist.”</p><p>Talanji sighed, but stood.</p><p>“What happened to the servant?  How can you be so sure he won’t talk?”</p><p>General Rakera looked at her seriously.  “He had an accident foraging in the forest.  I took him out to get some air, and he was distracted.  A devilsaur ate him, poor fellow.”  She raised one eyebrow.  “The jungle be such a dangerous place.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Everything looks normal, your Majesty.”  The healer, a short, rotund matron named Kaira, beamed at her.  The faint golden glow of a diagnostic spell faded from around her hands.  “Your heat, when it comes again, will be a good opportunity for you to find a mate.  Someone strong enough to stand at your side.  And share your bed.”  The troll winked at her and laughed, though she was the only one in the room to do so.</p><p>
  <em>  I’ll go, my Queen, but know this.  If you bring another troll here, to ya bed, he gonna meet an unfortunate end, hm? </em>
</p><p>Rakera spoke up before she could.  “Can you tell what her cycle will be?  I know it is different for all trolls, and it may be… prudent, to schedule the Queen’s travel and events around a potential timetable.”  Rakera stood straight and tall, and everyone knew the underlying reason for her question.  How to make sure Talanji didn’t send male trolls into fits of violence during state affairs.</p><p>“It is difficult to say, General.  The queen, may Bwonsamdi keep her, had a heat every other season, and it would last for a full week.  At the beginning of their marriage, she and King Rastakhan would often make sure he was abroad on business during that time.  They wanted time to settle, before bringing a young one into the world, you see.  Since yours only lasted a day, this time, it may be finding its rhythm, or you may have shorter heats more frequently.”  The healer shrugged, “The only way to truly tell is time, your Majesty.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Talanji stared past the healer and drew her brows down.  “For the sake of my kingdom, I need more stability before I select a mate.  I will need to rotate more female guards in until we know for certain what my cycle will be.”</p><p>Rakera bowed. “It will be done, my Queen.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It took less than two days for the news to be all over Zandalar that the Queen had come into her heat.  There was all manner of speculation about her cycle, rate of fertility, number of children she would bear, who her mate would be, and how many young males would catch her scent and be driven absolutely wild.  There was a betting pool for almost every aspect that could surround her personal life, the odds kept by an enterprising group of goblins down on the docks.</p><p>Talanji hated it.</p><p>Nobody ever said anything to her face, but she heard the whispers, the looks when she walked around her city, and had received no less than four proposals of a match by the end of the week.</p><p>Talanji was eating breakfast, fragrant slices of melon and tiny fried fish over a bed of herbed rice, jars of spicy and sweet sauces with dainty silver spoons set in the center of the small table on her balcony.  She was idly swiping a piece of flatbread through a mixture of spicy chili paste and leftover fish oil on her platter, flipping through the latest report on the reconstruction efforts in Nazmir, when her door opened quietly.</p><p>“General Rakera.”  Talanji set the triangle of flatbread on her plate and wiped her hands.  “It must be urgent, for you to come into my chambers unannounced.”</p><p>The gentle rebuke was waved away, Rakera sitting down heavily at the table and closing her eyes to bask in the early sunshine.</p><p>“I broke up three fights this morning, patrolling the market.”</p><p>Talanji raised one eyebrow and started to dish out an extra plate of breakfast for her friend.  “Oh?  Over what?”</p><p>She accepted the plate with a nod of thanks, spooning chili paste over her fish generously.  “One between a Tauren lentil merchant and an angry housewife, over the cost of the grain.”</p><p>Talanji winced, but nodded in her acceptance. Imports had been forced to rise, with so much arable land burned during the crusade of terror by the Widow’s Bite.  They were just now discovering that some fields had been salted before being burned, setting their agriculture plans back years, if not decades.</p><p>Dazar'alor had a vibrant fishing culture, the aquatic section of her agriculture council having multiplied their efforts to increase fish and sea-vegetable farming.  So far, they had enough farms along the coast of Zuldazar to keep most of the population in both oily and lighter, white-flesh fishes.  She wanted to double down on the farming of oily fish, retaining at least half of their output for the production of oil itself.  Medicinal, cooking, fuel, the list of uses for that oil were long and the production line was not fast.  To get enough fish oil extracted and properly preserved before what passed for winter on Zuldazar would be a monumental effort.</p><p>What they didn’t have was any sort of grain.  Only so much could be grown in community vegetable plots and foraged in the forest.  They had a fair selection of fruits, hearty roots and some green vegetables, a good many herbs, but not nearly enough land to grow beans, rice, lentils, oats, wheat - good sources of fiber, calories and nutrients for her hardworking people.  Her own rice, for her breakfast, was a luxury.  She made sure to eat every grain, knowing exactly what it had cost the palace to procure it.</p><p>“I’ll contact the Horde, see if we can do something, anything, to subsidize those costs.  My people need food, nobody should go hungry for lack of coin.”</p><p>Rakera nodded sagely, popping a tiny fish in her mouth.  “The second fight was between an engineer and an enchanter.” She speared another fish and waved it on her knife.  “Around the desalination efforts.  The engineer, a rather mouthy goblin, was exchanging blows with the enchanter, a deceptively wiry blood elf.”</p><p>“Let me guess,” Talanji threw down her napkin and rubbed the aching spot between her brows, “the rest of the engineering team was taking bets on the winner.”</p><p>Rakera smirked, “They were trying to engage as much of the market as possible into the wager.”</p><p>The desalination effort itself was a massive headache.  The fresh springs in and around Dazar'alor had been enough to supply fresh drinking water for her city, but with the burgeoning population as a result of their integration of the Horde, it was putting a strain on their natural resources.  Orgrimmar had been faced with a similar problem, during a drought, but the clever goblins that they’d pulled into the fold had come up with a series of pipes and machinery to make the brackish water on the coast potable.  They’d done a remarkable job, for a rather tidy profit.</p><p>“Why was the enchanter even there?  We made it clear that the goblins were to be given space and agency to complete this part of the infrastructure as fast as possible.”</p><p>Rakera took up a spoonful of rice and smiled.  “He was young, to begin with, and was convinced he could just enchant the pipes to absorb the salt and banish it.  A very implausible plan, but he was earnest in his imagination.”</p><p>“We use that salt for trade.”  Talanji blinked at her.</p><p>“We do.”  Rakera nodded.  “He didn’t know that and thought the goblin just couldn’t understand what he was talking about.  You know how goblins are, their pride is larger than Akunda himself.  We detained the blood elf and set the goblins back to work.  The elf should be on the next boat back to Silvermoon by now, unless the architect and enchanting guilds have found something promising in his work.”</p><p>Talanji and Rakera shared the last few slices of melon in silence, drinking cooled glasses of fruit juice.</p><p>“The last fight?  You said there were three, yes?”  Talanji prompted, refilling Rakera’s glass.</p><p>Rakera grimaced and set down the last of her bread.  She swirled the glass around thoughtfully, watching the way the sun sparkled pink off the juice.</p><p>“That’s why I’m here, my Queen.”  Her voice shifted into a formal cadence, a general giving a report.</p><p>Talanji instantly straightened her posture, becoming Queen once again.  She gestured for Rakera to continue.</p><p>“The third fight was, well, was really more of a brawl.”  She tilted the glass, refusing to look at Talanji.  “It was over you, your Majesty.”</p><p>“Me?”  Talanji was taken aback.  “Are there more Widow’s Bite sympathizers?  Those who would see me struck down from the throne?”</p><p>Rakera gave a smile that was closer to a grimace.  “The opposite, your Majesty.  They were fighting over the honor of trying to win your hand, to mate you.  Someone had gotten the idea to apply for staff in the palace, to be at hand when your time came again.  Play the long game, as it were.  Another troll overheard, and then another, and by the time we got there… It was a brawl.  A very large one.”</p><p>Talanji was speechless, her breakfast sitting heavy in her stomach.</p><p>“There are rumors that you have already given your heart, and are just waiting for the lucky troll to claim you.  Most people speculate Ambassador Zekhan, some think that Chieftain Rokhan would be a good match between ourselves and the Darkspear.  Unite trollkind, hm?”  Rakera settled back in her chair.</p><p>The young Queen looked at her general with a carefully masked expression.  “Did anyone-”</p><p>“Your loa was never even entertained as an option.  Nobody suspects him.”  Rakera watched her Queen carefully, cataloging every twitch of her expression, every facial tic.</p><p>“I have not called upon him since… since that time.  I have heard nothing from him.”  She fiddled with her napkin.</p><p>“You might want to do it soon,” Rakera said frankly.  “As you said days ago, if you were a priestess or a merchant, anyone but who you are, it wouldn’t matter.  You could mate who you like.  Mates are of little consequence to the everyday troll.”  She raised one groomed eyebrow.  “But you?  To be your mate is to be in a position of great power.  To be elevated beyond their station.  It will matter very much to the public.”</p><p>Talanji closed her eyes.  “Is the heat always so… intense?  It felt like it was going to burn me alive.”</p><p>Rakera smiled.  “It is not so bad once you are mated.  My own mate works with a jewel crafter, sourcing gems.  She lives here, in the capital.  I see her every night, so we’re usually able to satisfy the heat before it becomes too great.”</p><p>Talanji blinked at her.  “Your mate is a woman?  I didn’t know that a woman could, well, quench the flame I felt in my belly.”</p><p>Rakera drank the last of her juice and set the cup on her table.  “That is because you do not burn for a female, my Queen.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know that trolls don't have 'eyebrows', but they do have a pronounced sort of ridge that moves with their mood, so I'm using the term interchangeably with the traditional eyebrow with hair.</p><p>I gave Rakera and Talanji and more informal relationship here because I think that, despite how austere she is in the game with those under her command, Talanji softens a bit in the book.  I imagine Rakera and Talanji finding kinship and respect in each other, and being able to differentiate between their roles and who they are as people.  Finding that balance is something they both probably need practice at, and they would automatically have a bond of trust as General and Queen.  Also I just like Rakera and want Talanji to have a friend.</p><p>Now, in my mind, mating is not necessarily marriage, and a troll woman can generally mate who she would like.  In Zandalar, there are an awful lot of kids in the orphanage, and we see less of them, if any, with parents in the game.  I'm wondering if there exists a socially acceptable concept of tribal child rearing, where it's considered acceptable to give up a child that the woman doesn't have the inclination to raise.  The child would then go into the orphanage, the mother knowing that the child would be well cared for and trained to be of use to the empire.  It seems like a pretty transparent system, even with the crime down by the docks that had a few scamps working for them.</p><p>But for Talanji, her heat cycle would be of massive interest to the people.  Like the Royals in real life, her life is very much in the public eye.  In Shadows Rising and the game, there is no mention of her having a mate, and my exploration of that in this game is that Talanji (who is portrayed as young in both of those) has not yet reached her full sexual maturity.  She has not gone into heat, therefore cannot produce children, and it would be moot point for her to be married.  But once she is?  Oooooh man, to be Consort to the Queen and have your children rule would be of MASSIVE interest to any male troll, I would imagine.</p><p>Those are some of the things I really wanted to explore in this fic. :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. And the red triangle of his mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She avoided the thought of Bwonsamdi for the rest of the week.</p><p>Her letter to the Horde council had been sent on the prices for grain, and she’d urged her subjects and those recent immigrants to heavily consider trade in these trying times.  Grain for fish, vegetables for leather, meat for cheese.  Her economy was in shambles, the common value of any useful object fluctuated unpredictably on a daily basis.</p><p>The blood elf, Winillan Sunveil,  had been set to work with a chief enchanter on her staff and a senior engineer.  His plans for the enchantment of the pipes drawing in the seawater showed promise, if he could figure out how to safely conjure the salt elsewhere instead of banishing it.  The goblin, Kexdal Shortfault, had admitted that it would be nice to skip the distillation of the seawater and concentrate mainly on filtering and plumbing infrastructure.  But he, of course, had to talk to his union representative.  She prayed that she would simply be able to hire a goblin enchanter to help with the work and have that considered fair.</p><p>The rumors of who held her heart…</p><p>She could do nothing but ignore those.</p><p>Ambassador Zekhan, brave Darkspear that he was, would not make a good king.  He would most likely make a fair one, she acknowledged, and he would have a bond with the common people that she simply could never have.  But he lacked the breeding, the education, the backbone.  He was willing to sacrifice himself for her lowest subjects, a trait she found very admirable, but a King or Queen had to be strategic about leadership and when that sacrifice was necessary.</p><p>She felt a fondness for Zekhan, but it was the faint admiration of his deeds and skill from afar.</p><p>She thought of many other trolls, male and female, and the only one who made her lower belly curl up deliciously was Bwonsamdi.</p><p>She hated it.</p><p>Before her first heat, their relationship had been strictly that of ruler and loa.  She called, he came.  She protected his shrines, encouraged worship, made sure that he was strong, and kept her people’s souls from the Maw, and he granted her his wisdom and strength.  A very straightforward exchange.</p><p>The new element of her heat complicated matters grotesquely.  She didn’t feel like she loved him, the way she knew her father loved her mother, but she just wanted to bed him.  Fiercely.</p><p>When she fell into her bed that night, she was determined to not dream of him at all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She didn’t dream of Bwonsamdi.</p><p>Instead, she stood in a field.  A meadow of the like she’d never seen before, with thick blades of soft grass and flowers the size of her hand.  Bell-shaped, shades of pink ranging from nearly-white to a deep magenta, they swayed on tall stalks in a breeze she couldn’t feel.  There were smaller flowers, sprays of white star-shaped ones clustered under the stalks attractively.  She heard water somewhere and didn’t recognize the trees at the far edge of the clearing.</p><p>The middle of the meadow came up into a gentle hill, and something inside of her whispered that it would be lovely to climb it.  As she took a step, she looked down, startled.  Her feet were bare, as they always were, but her body was enrobed in a swath of soft white, a diaphanous fabric cinched at the waist with a glittering band of gold.  Her arms had delicate filigree bracelets, curling bands of gold with hammered leaves, coming up to nearly her elbow.  The work was good, she frowned, turning her arm over, but her people favored thicker bangles.  Geometric patterns, gemstone chips, colorful enamel.  Straighter, less organic construction.</p><p>Honestly, she’d never seen metalwork like this before in her life.</p><p>The skirts swished around her legs as she strode up the hill, determined to see what was at the top.</p><p>It was a skeleton, resting on a bed of moss.  She walked around it carefully, holding her dress up and out of the way of the mud.  A… a… she couldn’t recall the animal, but they didn’t live on her island.  Two huge antlers curved out of the skull, the vertebrae were large enough to fit in the palm of her hand.  Its legs were folded up under it, like it had been laying down, and its neck was curved around as if trying to rest its huge head on a powerful haunch.</p><p>As she watched, a tree started to grow from inside the rib cage of the creature.  The trunk shot up, engulfing white bone, branches and leaves bursting up and out until she was shaded by a thick umbrella of green.</p><p>The tree exploded into bloom without warning, and Talanji gasped at the beauty of it.  Red flowers, huge and silky, their petals waving in the breeze.  She reached up a three-fingered hand to touch one, but it started to crumble before she got close.  In its place, huge fruits started to grow.</p><p>The outer shell was a deep burgundy, the echo of a flower at the end, and when she grabbed one it split open neatly in her hand.  A shower of juicy seeds poured out, shining like rubies, and she realized with shock that she knew what this was.</p><p>A pomegranate tree.</p><p>She dropped the fruit and stumbled back, nearly sliding down the hill.  The tree had engulfed the ribcage and much of the spine of the animal, but it's head suddenly turned and looked directly at her.  Its jaws curved naturally into a hideous smile, and its blank sockets were fixed on her.  It opened those terrible jaws.</p><p>
  <em> Do you understand? </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t a voice she recognized.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bwonsamdi’s ear twitched as he felt Talanji’s distress.  It took moments for him to analyze everything that came through their connection, assess that it was just a bad dream or some other scare, not life-threatening, and turn his attention back to the soul of the troll child he was guiding to the Other Side.</p><p>Unless something truly remarkable happened, or she called him by name, he was content to leave her alone.</p><p>He had all the time in the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some symbolism!  Horray!</p><p>I'm assuming that Talanji wouldn't have paid much attention to the native flora and fauna in her travels, especially those more common in the Alliance-controlled territories.  If she'd seen a deer before, she would have probably simply noted that it was an herbivore and less of a threat from a distance.</p><p>I'm gonna start exploring the changing bond between these two and booooy is it gonna be fun!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. full of tongue and whistles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dream troubled Talanji terribly, but she found herself unable to talk about it during waking hours.  She found herself trying to avoid sleep, but unable to resist the lure of her bed.  Almost as if she was a child again, with a child’s strict bedtime.  Her body grew unnaturally weary, and it was everything she could do to dismiss her attendants, wrap her braids in a silken scarf and throw herself onto her soft mattress into oblivion.</p><p>The dream repeated itself each night for a solid week, the imagery slowly becoming more forceful.  The same voice, but now at the beginning, and the tone was becoming desperate and annoyed in turns.  Sometimes it was the skull talking, sometimes the wind, the stream, the very air itself.  The tree flowers became a vulgar red, the fruit dripping obscenely.  Flowers multiplying to take over the grass almost completely.  So filled with life that she could almost choke on it.</p><p>All of it centered on the carcass of the creature.  She’d researched and found out it was a type of deer, common in the lands where it snowed heavily, and the points of the antlers kept growing with each dream.  In the slim volume she’d purchased at the marketplace, she learned that the more sharp points on a male deer’s antlers, the more attractive he was during the mating season.</p><p>The antlers had started to become large enough to spear the fruit.  Thick white bone puncturing the protective rind, bursting the seeds inside and gushing sticky juice.  She blushed to look at it, trying very hard to forget what it felt like to have her legs cradled by Bwonsamdi’s huge tusks, his tongue sliding inside of her…</p><p>Eventually, she sought council. None of her priests, for any of the loa, could explain the dream.  She couldn’t bring herself to bring it up to Rakera, and in fact, was loath to let the dream or her sleeping schedule interfere with her daily duties as Queen.  She stuffed the dreams down every sunrise, giving herself the hour after waking and the hour before sleep to read books or question those close to the spirits.</p><p>She became desperate enough to seek out the missionaries of the many religions the Horde had sent to her city.  None of them could explain it either, until she was directed to an older Tauren shaman named Lokni Twoforest.  They’d talked shortly of the beauty of her city, the land it was nestled in, and how he felt the spirits flourishing around him.  When she broached the subject of dreams, he nodded sagely.</p><p>“The spirits, the Earth Mother, they can communicate with us when we’ve let down the guards of the waking world.”  His voice was gentle and deep, and as they talked he was pulping a mixture of herbs in a mortar.  The pestle was lovely, white but stained a deep green at the head with years of hard work. “When they need to speak to us most, they have a way.”</p><p>She stared at his hands as he deftly worked, “I keep having a dream, it’s… it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced before.”  She described it to him in as much detail as she dared.  He put down his pestle and looked at her with something between amusement and concern.</p><p>“Ordinarily,” he started, frowning, “I would say that this is the beginning of your- I’m not sure what the trolls call it, but the period where you become able to bear children.  There are many, many signs pointing to fertility.  But.”</p><p>She nodded, encouraging him to continue.  “But?”</p><p>He smiled at her grimly.  “The skeleton in such close proximity to the tree, the fruit, and seeds.  That you’d never seen a deer before is- Well, it’s alarming to me that it should appear in such detail.  And with so many points… I might normally say that it represents the idea that life can spring out of death, and the wheel of time will return us all to such a state, but-”  His lips twisted and Talanji felt herself go cold.</p><p>“It could be your mind telling you that even though your father is gone, the seeds that he sowed will feed you and your children for many years into the future, but-” He looked around thoughtfully and Talanji shook her head.</p><p>“My fatha’, he… he was not a <em> bad </em> king, but he wasn’t… I inherited much discontent.”  She explained it as tactfully as she could.</p><p>“I was afraid of that.  I’m more than half convinced, your Majesty, that a spirit from outside of Zandalar is trying to send you a message.” His moss-green eyes peered at her anxiously, as if waiting for her to panic or burst into tears.</p><p>She did neither.  She smiled at him politely, thanked him for his time and counsel, and made her way back to her chambers.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night, though she had mentally prepared herself for it, she didn’t dream.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Two days later saw her stepping through a portal to Silvermoon City, to meet with Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron and the blood elf agricultural advisory council.  Her own agricultural council was with her in full, all of them openly admiring the gold and red of the extravagant capital.  She was holding her head high with the confidence that her city wasn’t going to burn down under the tender care of Rakera and Loti.</p><p>All blood elves had a glossy beauty to them that Talanji found faintly disturbing.  It was one of the reasons she liked Lor’themar as much as she did; he defied her every expectation for what a blood elf should be.  Tall, grizzled, and battle-scarred, his silver hair was rough and his beard was in three tidy sections she knew he didn’t do himself.  His one working eye looked at her solemnly, none of the vapid cruelty most of his subjects wore on their features.  The wound over his milky blind one hadn’t been treated by a talented healer, the scar was too prominent.  Thick ropey flesh that bisected his long brow and puckered the lid awkwardly.  He had to exert force to properly blink on that side, and she smiled at him.  A true warrior, not just a leader in name.</p><p>“Your Majesty,” he bowed low, pressing his chapped lips to the back of her hand in a brief, courtly kiss.</p><p>She curtsied in the graceful style of the blood elves, having worn flowing silk skirts specifically for this moment, nodding her head slightly.  “I am honored, my Lord.”</p><p>Their councils were politely introducing each other, bowing and shaking hands.  Pleasant small talk bubbled up around them, the proud blood elves more than happy to show off the splendor of their city.  Her people were politely interested, a bit in the architecture and history, but genuinely thrilled with the amount of greenery dotting the common areas.</p><p>Beside her, Lor’themar sighed and murmured, “A full week of discussions centering around plants.  The ranger in me wishes I could be planning a war or manhunt instead.”</p><p>“A good leader must be first and foremost interested in the wellbeing of their people,” she gently admonished, turning to meet his interested gaze.  “We should all be more focused on putting things in the ground to grow to feed those still living, rather than planning on creating more dead.”</p><p>His response was sober and direct. “I rather thought I would get a different answer, considering that you almost tossed the Horde out of your kingdom when they refused to give you the forces to take revenge on Jaina Proudmoore.”  </p><p>She schooled her face into something neutral.  “Food will keep my people alive longer than revenge, my Lord.  I’ve turned my attention to fostering the defenses of my kingdom and sowing peace and prosperity, rather than generating more hatred and thirst for blood.”</p><p>Ambassadors started showing up, poised and dignified, all clad in matched gold-chased red silk tunics.  Her council members were all being hosted in the homes of prominent families in the city, a small indication that there was no lodging specifically for visiting dignitaries.</p><p>“I would be honored if you would allow me to host you at the palace, your Majesty.”  He offered her in a way that she knew he wasn’t used to asking.  She consented, knowing that it would be a terrible show of distrust if she should teleport back to Zandalar every night.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Her chambers, it turned out, were in the same wing as Lor’themar.  That wing of the palace already had a very serious security detail, and she took the chambers without a word in protest.  In her mind, he didn’t have the soldiers to spare a tight enough detail somewhere else, or there was something specific in this room he wanted near her.</p><p>Dinner had been a welcoming banquet, with long tables groaning under the weight of Silvermoon specialty dishes.  Succulent roasted pork, acorns and squash toasted with exotic spices and thin slices of translucent fish, which were seared on a hot rock before being consumed immediately.  Course after course revealed new culinary delights.  Delicate wines, served in the finest cut crystal she’d ever seen, and plates of tiny cakes shaped like her palace were presented near the end of the meal, and she nearly clapped in delight.</p><p>Through it all, she fielded questions from high-ranking blood elf dignitaries, generals, advisors, and priests, and asked some of her own in exchange.  She had an easier time of it than she imagined, finding the elves seated near her open, intelligent, and curious about her own people and customs.</p><p>Lor’themar was seated near her but seldomly interjected, mostly for details of the Zandalari navy, and she found herself genuinely enjoying the discussion in a way that she hadn’t with the Horde council.  The blood elves were intelligent, for all their impossible beauty, and witty enough to make her laugh without warning.  It didn’t occur to her until she saw her council visible startled that she hadn’t laughed in a long, long time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night she almost called on Bwonsamdi, but instead fell into an exhausted, dreamless slumber.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The following days were filled with intensive tours of Eversong Forest, the mapping of arable land for farming, where her troops would need to be stationed and druids appointed to deal with the evils that dwelt in the lush landscape.  She absorbed as much of the conversations as she could, contributing numbers where she was confident, but otherwise she took in figures, facts, landmass and the types of crops best suited to the land they were being rented.</p><p>In return, Lor’themar would send his council of archaeological, mining and geological societies to Zandalar to discuss the extraction of precious minerals and gemstones on her island.</p><p>The land in the Eversong Forest was rich in a very different way than in the jungles of home.  Centuries of leaf litter on the ground lead to loamy, rich soil, just waiting to be farmed.  When asked about why it wasn’t farmland already, Lor’themar had simply given her a tight smile and changed the topic.</p><p>Surrounded by the tall trees, dappled light playing across her skin, and her toes buried in the soil and decomposing leaves, Talanji felt the type of peace blanket her that she hadn’t felt since she was a child, safe in her father’s arms.  She closed her eyes and a trance came over her for a moment, the birdsong and burble of a nearby stream almost as sacred as a loa speaking to her.  It felt holy, this small patch of dirt, undisturbed and bursting with life.</p><p>An image flitted through her mind, seeds sending shoots up through the soil and stretching pale green limbs up to the sun, nymphs and naiads playing in streams teeming with wildlife.  Birds of every color winging through trees, dancing and darting like gems on the wind.</p><p>It was disturbed by a hard hand at her elbow, and a harsh whisper of, “Your Majesty.”</p><p>She blinked at the sharp, knowing gaze of Lor’themar, who let her follow his eyes down to her feet.</p><p>There were clusters of bright wildflowers around her toes, where they’d dug into the soil.</p><p>It had been nothing but dead leaves when she’d stepped there a moment ago.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far!  I really appreciate it. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. But a woman whose love has vanished</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’ve always been a child sensitive to the spirit world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bwonsamdi was sitting cross-legged, back straight and his attention weighted on her.  He’d been there when she first opened the door, and she fought the urge to turn around and run away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You felt that?”  She was a Queen, and that meant she couldn’t run from anything anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile was wicked and his eyes were bright.  “Just because ya haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the invasion of her privacy, knowing that his inability to just leave her alone had saved her life on more than one occasion, she instead swiftly replied, “Have you seen my dreams too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head tilted like a bird and his eyes flared for a moment.  “Dreams?  No.  Bwonsamdi hasn’t been peekin’ in ya dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he was here, because she didn’t have to call on him and she’d been needing to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her loa, Talanji sat on the corner of the bed and quietly told him everything.  She didn’t wait for a sassy remark and he didn’t offer one.  The silence between them stretched on until she finally worked up the nerve to turn around and look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still sitting with his back straight, one enormous hand cupping his chin and his tattoos flickering thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talanji took a minute to study her loa, and if he could be believed, her one-day mate.  He was large, broad of shoulder and heavy of limb.  His hair stood straight up, feeding into the illusion of height and imposing size.  His tattoos were filled with light, bringing a bright life to his otherwise gray skin.  She couldn’t tell if it was a glamor or not, but parts of his skin were fading away to expose the bone and meat beneath.  There were stitches across his arms, but the only seemed to highlight the whipcord muscle that played beneath the skin.  His waist was trim, tidy, his skirts made of hide and decorated with all manner of gruesome paraphernalia.  Without letting her eyes stray too much farther south, she noticed that he’d shed his shin ornaments and sat bare-legged on her bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She forced her eyes back to his face, raised one brow ridge at him and he blinked at her.  “I’ve been thinkin’ about which loa could possibly be responsible for… this.”  He gestured between them with his free hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down at her cupped hands and frowned.  “By this, you mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a hum in the back of his throat.  “Don’t ya see?  Ya bein’ pulled to me, want me in ya heat, able to make plants </span>
  <em>
    <span>appear out of thin air</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you still don’t understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what the voice said,” she murmured, twisting her father’s ring on her finger, “in the first dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you understand?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya bein’ marked,” he said seriously, “as either a troll poised to be elevated as a loa or a troll with an even bigger target on ya back than normal, and whoever is behind it needs ya ta be bound to Death.  Bound to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes grew huge, “A loa?  Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached between them, pulled one of her hands away and held it in his, palm up.  He slowly moved his other hand, keeping his eyes on her face, and with a whisper of magic a dead songbird appeared in her palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t flinch, because even though the bird itself was cold, feathers soft against her rough skin, she felt something else.  The bird was a girl, old enough to produce eggs, and she felt the faint tug of potential life lost, but there was more.  All it took was a gentle prodding, a wave of her own free hand, and a sprout burst from between the bright blue feathers of her chest.  She’d eaten a seed right before she died, and hadn’t had the time to digest it.  Talanji watched, fascinated, and she pushed more of her own energy toward it.  The sprout turned into a blossom, petals ruffled and slightly transparent, white as the bones of Bwonsamdi’s hand.  She felt the roots take deep in the bird’s internal organ system, twining around a delicate rib cage and worming to get the nutrients from the spinal column.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life,” he said softly, “comes from death.”  An echo of another conversation, what seemed like another lifetime ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she understood.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a snap of his huge fingers, Bwonsamdi vanished the bird and the flower.  “Plants be the first thing ya feel a pull toward.  Eventually, ya get control and precision needed for… bigger things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talanji felt both more at peace with her place in the universe and more crushed by expectation than she’d ever felt before.  Her breath was paralyzed, her hands trembling, and her vision went spotty at the edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was supposed to be dealing with how to feed her people and restore her economy, carve out places for her kind to immigrate, explore new cultures and introduce people to the beauty of her own.  Turning into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a little outside of the ten-year plan she’d been working on with her wider council.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will take time,” Bwonsamdi was gentle at her side, those unnerving eyes fixed on her.  She knew her panic was writ large on her face, but hadn’t expected much by the way of comfort from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you-” her voice came out as a croak so she licked her lips and tried again.  “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> you trying to run away from this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grinning skull of his mask came very close to her face.  “Because I’m surprised.  That happens so rarely these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand slipped around her waist and she allowed him to pull her closer.  One moment of comfort she could allow.  She wished, very deeply, that he was as disturbed about all of this as she was, and that he would pledge to fight against this with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew the feel of his magic at this point, they’d been bound for close to a year and she’d fought for him before that.  The magic she felt in her dreams, when she thought about things growing and blooming under her care, it didn’t feel like him at all.  It was not impossible that he was the one pulling the strings behind all of this, but she dismissed it as a likely possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talanji pulled back from him, mind clearing and focusing on the problem at hand.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>One step at a time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is being surprised a good thing?”  He tilted his head and she waved her hands through the air frustratedly.  “You’re surprised, but not worried. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rumble of amusement came from deep in his chest, and he grinned.  “When ya been around as long as I have, my Queen, there are terribly few things that will surprise you, and those that do you learn to keep close.”  His tone went more serious and he leaned in, tucking her face between his tusks and breathing her in.  “Ya smell like life.  Like grass and green things and light.  I been knowing that ya sensitive, that ya strong and talented and willful, and the Loa of Death needs the Loa of Life, you see?  For balance.”  His bony forehead brushed hers, and the space where his nose should have been was very close to her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her whole body was completely still, her nerves dancing and jumping under her skin from his nearness.  His smell had changed too, she realized dimly, from her heat.  He no longer smelled like decay, he smelled of </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibility.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  What had been the stink of gravedirt was now the aroma of soft, loamy earth, ready to feed new life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something inside of her had shifted and she couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened.  It disturbed her enough to send her over the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed back from him violently, almost throwing him off the bed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Balance?  What balance is </span>
  <em>
    <span>forced</span>
  </em>
  <span> upon someone? I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose</span>
  </em>
  <span> this,” she hissed, “And if this is your gift, your sick way of keeping me with ya foreva’, Bwonsamdi, </span>
  <em>
    <span>take it back.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”  He practically roared, stretching himself to his full height.  “I didn’t say I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> ya with me, ya spoiled child!  If I could give such a gift, you best believe it wouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> I gave it to.”  He reached over and grasped her arms, pulling her close.  His back arched as he bent down, and his burning, angry eyes bored into hers.  “Rejectin’ such a gift is more dangerous than acceptin’ it.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span> out there has designs on you, Talanji, and ya best be aware that it’s probably not somethin’ I can protect ya from.  But I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>try.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like you want to make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she sneered, “You wanna protect me from some big thing that goes bump in the night, Bwonsamdi?  Some big bad monster that you made up to scare me?”  She was so far past the point of reason, she wanted to rile him up and see what he said, see what he admitted to.  In spite of, or maybe as a direct effect of, her time spent with the loa, she trusted him about as far as she could throw him.  And given that he stood heads taller than her, that wasn’t very far.  “What I got to do, huh?  What I got to </span>
  <em>
    <span>give</span>
  </em>
  <span> ya?”  She gave him a false sultry look from under her long eyelashes.  His hands tightened on her biceps just to the point of discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, he flipped her around and pressed her face into the soft mattress, hips canted up, his hands pulling her arms back and one powerful thigh forcing its way between hers.  He made a sharp sound in the back of his throat and her clothing vanished, leaving her clad in her undershorts and linen chest strap.  Her braids fell out of their restrictive bun and cascaded over her face and shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teasin’ a loa is a stupid move, child.”  His voice was cold and unmoved, even as she felt him hard against her bottom.  “Almost as stupid as reactin’ without thought to things you don’t understand, hm?”  He pulled her arms back, just enough to put strain on the joints, and she hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, Bwonsamdi, let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>go,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she struggled against him for a moment, but then without hardly moving he spread her thighs further and pushed her lower arms up to the middle of her back.  Just enough so that she couldn’t move without risking injury.  It wasn’t exactly painful, but all of the little ligaments of her hips and shoulders were protesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to understand, girl, that you are messing with things stronger than you could possibly know.  I could do what I would to ya, take ya or kill ya, and what could possibly happen to me?  Who in your kingdom could challenge me? Oh, they might banish me from the world a while, but they couldn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”  He let his power flare, black-violet strands twisting around them, and she shuddered from the oppressive weight of magic.  “And even then, ya aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me.  What is happening is an orchestration of someone bigger than the both of us.  Mueh’zala decided that I was Loa of Graves, and then it was done.  My feelings, my life, were nothin’ to him.  Still nothin’.”  His voice became bitter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook himself slowly, like a beast, and used her arms to haul her up against his chest.  He smoothly transferred both of her slim forearms to one enormous hand, barely jostling her.  She gasped and struggled for a moment, then the sharp tips of his fingers touched the pulsepoint on her neck and she froze.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hips were still pressed firmly against her, and she breathed shallowly as he came close enough to whisper in her ear, “What makes ya think ya can outsmart a loa like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  He chuckled darkly and his hand went from her neck to wander down her flat stomach.  “When you can’t even outsmart a loa like </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt herself responding to his touch, something like the first time he’d put his hands on her.  Heat, a painful wanting that centered between her thighs, but this didn’t take away all rational thought.  The weight of him against her, gentle pressure making her want to press back against him, but he had her pinned so that she couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>move…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If you’d asked Talanji before this what she would have thought of Bwonsamdi restraining her, her immediate response would have been to punch him.  Now, she was astonished and faintly ashamed to find out that she liked it.  Sort of.  She certainly didn’t hate it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her confusion kept her compliant, still in his grip as his cold fingertips explored the taut skin of her belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand got to the edge of her shorts, and then all in one motion he released her.  She landed on the bed with a thump, her arms flopping out to the side and her legs instantly snapping together.  She gasped and panted as adrenaline coursed through her system, automatically crossing her arms over her chest and wincing as her abused joints protested the movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced wildly around the room, and there he was, near the balcony, his arms crossed as he leaned against a white marble pillar.  He stared at her impassively, looking extremely unaffected.  “Now ya know how easy it would be for me to force ya.  Ya mortal, for now.  That means ya weak.”  He unfolded himself from against the wall and padded over to her.  He crouched in front of her and it was all she could do to glare at him and pant.  He didn’t touch her, didn’t reach for her at all, but instead stared at her seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked at him from under her spill of braids, searching his own impartial gaze.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> force her.  She didn’t think for a second that meant that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes drifted just past her, hazy and unfocused, “Not weak for long though, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He vanished in a roll of blue flame without waiting for a reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the Necropolis, Bwonsamdi paced the walls and ceiling agitatedly.  Gravity was something he remembered only in theory, and his world behaved as he wanted it to.  He felt the pull of the Maw, trying to reach around his power to the souls he was keeping safe in The Other Side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He batted the feeling away like an annoying mosquito, flaring his renewed strength in warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he knew which loa, any loa, would possibly have an interest in Talanji.  Which one of them he could show his might in the same display of territoriality.  He could think of a dozen reasons any of his enemies would want his heart bound to such a fragile mortal.  As far as they went, Talanji was a pillar of strength and power, but she was still only flesh and blood.  For now.  But before her transformation was complete, it was possible for her to die.  Murder, assassination, disease, </span>
  <em>
    <span>childbirth-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his own lip and snarled into the glow of his sanctuary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To have him develop feelings for her would mean that he would do anything to protect her.  His love would be dark, brutal, consuming, and if he admitted it to himself, he wasn’t sure that hers would be anything different.  Binding their strength together, loa to loa, would make them both twice as strong and twice as weak, should one of them fall.  If she should fall before becoming a loa, and if he loved her then?  Bwonsamdi would turn entire empires into dust in his rage, and who knew what Mueh’zala would think of that.  Who knew if he would swoop in and choose that particular moment to chastise his underling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This couldn’t be Windrunner, she didn’t have that kind of power and there wasn’t even a whiff of her stink anywhere near Talanji.  Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bwonsamdi sat on the high ceiling of his inner chamber, light barely reaching him.  He tapped his fingers together as he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Talanji at his side, would he be stronger than Mueh’zala?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’d told Talanji they’d be Loa of Life and Loa of Death, he was over-reaching his role just a tad.  He was the Loa of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death</span>
  </em>
  <span> itself.  Would Talanji be the Loa of the Living?  He tried to wrinkle his nose, only to sigh when he remembered, again, that it was gone.  Loa of the Living was a little… vague.  Much, much wider than just the dead.  What would she even do, try to prevent trolls from dying?  That wouldn’t be sustainable.  Heal them when they were sick?  Not really her style.  She would fight for those that could not fight for themselves, but she wasn’t a creature of pure light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would make more sense would be for her to be the Loa of Birth, if he saw her as anything approaching maternal.  The thought of her doing nothing with her time but attending expectant mothers made him roll his eyes.  She wouldn’t be able to do that for long without wanting to rip her own hair out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thought hit him hard enough to nearly make him fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Loa of Reincarnation.  Taking the troll souls, understanding them as living beings and walking through their lives with them, to help them come back again until the reached a state of… of something.  Some souls, he knew, he felt in his very bones, were not ready to lay peaceful in the afterlife.  They needed to come back, they had unfinished business.  Something to fulfill, some part of the troll empire to build, before they were content to rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some still lay dormant for awhile before wanting to come back and live again, be productive in troll society.  Artists, he noted, and poets, were the most often to come back after a few decades and ask to be reborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He usually never bothered, just sent them back to The Other Side with a wave of his hand.  Torga, as a loa, had basically ripped that option straight from Bwonsamdi and channeled his power to be reborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, Bwonsamdi looked at his and Talanji’s dynamic with new eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One loa to let them into The Other Side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another to let them out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door, after all, was a portal between two spaces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t explain the plants, the trick she was able to pull with the bird, but it made more sense than any of his other ideas.  It was good to have working theories, but without knowing who was behind Talanji’s new powers, it would be near impossible to have a clear-cut set of duties and expectations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about telling Talanji, but remembered with a sudden rush of blood south how she’d felt under him, prone and held with nothing more than his superior strength…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never wanted to mate her as badly as he had right then, but she was probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him.  Maybe furious enough to fight him, try to pin </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>down.  He settled onto his ceiling to indulge in that fantasy for an hour or thirty.  Bwonsamdi never claimed to be capable of shame.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Who thinks now, too much, of roots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Laying on the bed, Talanji thought very, very hard about what it had felt like to have Bwonsamdi wane in strength.  She’d felt so weak, older than her father, and it brought to mind what it had looked like he died.  She wanted to avoid examining that memory for as long as she possibly could, and she shoved it violently to the back of her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled onto her back and stared at the ornate ceiling.  A fussy trefoil pattern, perfect for blood elves, but also full of whirls and loops that chased each other like her own thoughts.  The gilded plaster must have taken a team of artisans a full year to finish.  All for a guest wing that probably got used once every decade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she started thinking about the pattern molds and presses that her own masons used and wondered if the blood elves would ever lower themselves to mass manufacturing anything.  No, they’d probably insisted that each tile be made by hand, individually, and look exactly the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, from this height, she wouldn’t be able to tell if there were minute differences in each tile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbly, she wondered if she’d be able to float like Bwonsamdi when she became a full-fledged loa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If she could, she decided, she’d come back here and get a closer look at those tiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the week passed in a haze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it was time to return to Zandalar, she found herself surrounded by the new friends that she’d made, exchanging promises to have certain dishes and plants ready for the geological visit planned in two months time.  And, surprisingly, missing two of her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ril’zash, an attendant of a junior member of the council, stood nervously at the edge of the goodbyes.  He was a handsome young troll, a long dark plait down his back and clear green-blue skin.  He was, she recalled, from one of the many orphanages in Zandalar, and this was his first job out of training.  It made the fact that a tall, willowy blood elf was clutching his large bicep… Talanji didn’t really know what to think of it, so she excused herself from the festivities and strode in their direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ril’zash grew extremely nervous the closer she got, but was clearly being calmed by the elf at his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could even open her mouth, as soon as she was within polite-enough distance, the elf hailed her.  “My Queen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blood elves, she thought instantly, needed to grow tusks to make it easier to tell the men and women apart.  They were annoyingly androgynous, and the slim figure she’d taken to be female turned fully toward her to reveal a broad chest and neat, tiny waist.  The elf with the deep, rich voice was very obviously male when viewed from this angle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She inclined her head and looked very obviously between the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf gave her a half-grin and a deep bow, sparkling auburn hair slipping over one shoulder.  “Queen Talanji, I am here with my heart in my hands.  My name is Kanis Peacekeeper, son of the long-dead Baeman and Lynis Peacekeepers.”  He straightened from his bow and turned to look at Ril’zash next to him.  “I never thought I would find love.  I never thought I would find someone as charming, funny, intelligent and fierce as Ril’zash.”  The troll blushed at the nearly obscene way the elf rolled his name in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kanis,” he whispered, looking pointedly back to Talanji.  The elf’s eyes had gone soft when he turned them on Ril’zash, and Talanji knew that they were both terribly in love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my warrior? Oh!  Oh, yes, the queen- Yes.”  He turned back to her, his green eyes glowing brighter than before, and he did another quick bow.  “All that aside, we wish to ask for your leave to form an eternal union.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, ya Majesty,” Ril’zash was much quieter than Kanis, but his voice was very firm,  “I would ask to remain behind, here in Silvermoon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though it was unorthodox, and certainly her father would have insisted on a formal petition in front of the council, Talanji found herself unable to do anything but bless the union with a gentle smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The second missing member of her entourage didn't have nearly as exciting an excuse.  An older troll, skin still firm but her blue hair streaked liberally white, came striding up just as they were opening the portals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been looking for a specific flower to show her grandchildren, and she apologized for losing track of time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talanji pardoned her with a graceful incline of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once everyone was accounted for and all goodbyes had been said to Ril’zash, with good wishes to his new union, Talanji lead the way through the portals herself, head held high.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d returned in what was morning in Zuldazar, so Talanji was entirely prepared to spend the day in endless meetings, hearings, working sessions and at least one speech in front of her people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still wore the light, effortless ivory silk skirts favored by the blood elves instead of her normal stiff brocade, and if the cross-cultural symbolism was lost on anyone else, it stayed stuck in Talanji’s mind for the rest of the day.  Who had known that fabric could be so soft, so breathable?  It was spun, she knew, from the larvae of the moths that inhabited their soft corner of the earth, and it would be ruined the instant she set foot in a battlefield, but she was already thinking of formal gossamer dresses for summer court functions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made it hard for her to concentrate on reports of what had happened in the last week, but everything was refreshingly minor.  The aqua-culture farms were coming along at the projected pace, the blood elf enchanter was getting along swimmingly with the goblin mechanic now that they were collaborating on plans, and the initiative to accept trade for food was tentatively being accepted by more and more merchants.  Nobody had come forward yelling that they’d been swindled, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was absolutely not expecting to see Bwonsamdi in her chambers at the end of the day, again lounging on her bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat skipped along her spine to settle in the juncture of her legs, and she reacted explosively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Without thinking about it, she leapt across the room, vaulted onto the bed, and with violence that shocked both of them, punched him in the mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head snapped back and she hissed, the edge of her knuckles bleeding from where they’d gotten caught on the teeth of his mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straddled him without thinking and put one hand on his sternum and the other on his throat.  He went still beneath her, and she was suddenly aware that the only thing holding him down was his own will.  He could have avoided her fist.  He could throw her off of him now, use his monstrous strength to flip this dynamic before she could blink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snarled at him and he didn’t move his head, but flicked his eyes down to look at her.  His hands were spread, and he didn’t so much as twitch.  “What,” his voice was smooth and dark and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “are you doing, Talanji?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have an answer for him.  She didn’t know what she was doing, but let her instincts guide her.  She pressed down on his throat, bared her teeth and shoved all of her will into holding him </span>
  <em>
    <span>down.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thick vines erupted from the posts of her bed, winding around his wrists and ankles, one snaking across the middle of his torso and another slithering around his waist.  The vines were the semi-transparent celadon of new growth, pliable and soft.  They sparked gold in the light of the candles around her room, magic running close to the surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tested the bonds, flexing his wrists and legs against them, but stopped when she hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand on his sternum pressed down, solid pressure moving slowly down his body, his tattoos flickering erratically, and when her fingers found the edge of his kilt both of their bodies shuddered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could think too hard about it, Talanji shoved her hand down his kilt.  Her hand closed around the half-hard length of him and several things happened at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the vines holding him withered and were reduced to dust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made a kind of ferocious snarl that she’d never seen before, the rumble of it settling deep into her bones.  His entire body stretched out taut, like a bowstring ready to snap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They vanished a roll of blue flame, nothing remaining but the dust of the vines Talanji had grown to keep him down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They appeared at the Necropolis, Bwonsamdi still flat on his back with Talanji astride him.  The only difference with their position now was the fact that Bwonsamdi’s back was tight against the dark ceiling and it was only his hands, hard on her hips, that kept her from falling to her death far below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand was still wrapped around his cock, but it was raging hard and her fingers couldn’t quite fit.  Her free hand went from his throat to his shoulder and held onto his shoulder plate for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ya not in heat,” he breathed, eyes glowing, and she felt his bones trembling against her skin, tips pressed into her hips hard enough to bruise.  “Ya not in heat, but ya want me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could do nothing but cling to him and breathe, focused on the fact that there was nothing at her back but a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of open air and the only thing keeping her from falling to her death was a loa that she’d just punched in the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her knuckles were already healed, troll regeneration being what it was, but she remembered the feeling of those grinning teeth cutting deep.  A frisson of fear slipped down her spine and she started to tremble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was right when he’d said she reacted without thinking.  She could handle a Bwonsamdi that was at her level, teasing her and giving her harsh wisdom but this was something jarring, different, and was a bigger threat than holding her prone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would now do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep him from letting go.  Burgeoning loa she might be, but for all Talanji knew she was just a mortal with promise.  Promise that might be dashed into a bloody mess on the ancient stones far enough below them to just be a thought carved in shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cock in her hand was throbbing, hard as steel and all of the aggression that had flooded her minutes ago drained out of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was afraid, Bwonsamdi could feel it, but he could concentrate on very little bit the fact that she’d willingly, of her own volition and not under the influence of her heat, put her hand on him.  That hand was still trembling, locked as far around his cock as it could go, and her grip was tight enough to make his eyes roll back in pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vanish ya clothes,” he panted in a harsh whisper.  She trembled against him and he hated the thought of her cowed.  “I’m not gonna drop ya, girl.”  He tightened one hand on her hip and the other slid sensuously up her back, laying across her spine and his skeletal hand gripped her shoulder in a show of support.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallowed but her glowing gaze met his and she nodded, faintly, and whispered back, “I don’t understand why, Bwonsamdi, but I… I’m not sure what’s happening and you were right to scare me.”  He became very still and she slowly squeezed her thighs against his hips, “Even this, such a small show of power from you terrifies me. I’m used to my title, my blood, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>loa,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> at this she purred a little and he rumbled slightly in approval, “protecting me.  I’m powerful, like ya said, but so mortal.”  Her eyes went from his to somewhere over his shoulder, “I don’t understand what’s happening, not really, and I’m… I’m afraid, Bwonsamdi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Queen.”  His grip on her firmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid,” she continued, stronger, and she opened her thighs a little wider, “But I’ve been afraid before.  I’ve seen it through, with you at my side.  And even though I’m a Queen,” she closed her eyes and felt for the life in this place, this temple of death and the dead, and found it.  Around them, mosses and lichens started to seep between the joints of the stone, having lain dormant for centuries from the overwhelming aura of decay from Bwonsamdi at his seat of power. “Even though I’m a Queen, I’m becoming something much more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned up, though it felt like down, between his tusks, and pressed her forehead up against his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had started out as something violent and heated had quickly turned into a confession of feelings that Bwonsamdi felt uncharacteristically ill-prepared to respond to.  He was more aroused than ever by her display of power, making things grow in this dead place, and wanted nothing more than to rip those pale skirts off and hear her moans reverberate around his temple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth only to have Talanji reach up and sink her dainty little fangs right into his lower lip, piercing it through, and he immediately thrust his hips up against her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want ya, Bwonsamdi,” she whispered, “I want ya now, with my head clear.”  The unspoken </span>
  <em>
    <span>without the chance for a child</span>
  </em>
  <span> was loud between them, but he didn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His dark blood was slick on his chin, an aphrodisiac to any troll, moreso to a loa that never came to physical harm, and he did the only thing he could think to do.  In one smooth move, he flipped them over, her clothes and his vanishing, her braids spilling free and he hitched one powerful thigh over his hip, laying the other flat against the ceiling, spreading her wide enough that the smell of her arousal perfumed the air around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ya bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span> here,” was all he could think to say, before he entered her up to the hilt in one effortless stroke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her back arched, the crown of her head pressing into the soft moss padding the cold stone, the muscles in her thighs trembled and she dug her blunt fingernails into the skin on his back.  She’d let out a long, ragged gasp that had faded down to panting as Bwonsamdi waited on top of her, shaking with restraint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t gone slow.  Couldn’t really, not with his blood up like this.  Waiting for her to adjust to his size was all he could do, and even that was wearing his patience down.  His shoulders shook and he didn’t say anything, didn’t breathe, just reveled in the feel of her.  She was tight, like a glove, and he was very aware that he was bigger than any mortal male she would have otherwise been mated to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t had sex since he died, and this was what he had been waiting for.  His equal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started thrusting shallowly, mostly buried inside of her, and felt all of the twinges of her body as she adjusted to him.  Her hips relaxed, pants turned to moans, and he ducked his head under her chin, his tusks fitting neatly under the delicate bone of her jaw to force her head back, and he ran his tongue over the firm line of her pulse.  He felt it jump when he slid himself back in, her moan vibrating his own jaw and he snarled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was trying to saw his name, but couldn’t get much farther than “Bwon-” before moaning again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ya belong to a loa now, girl.”  He rumbled it against her throat, but the way her heart skipped a beat old him that she heard him.  “Ya never gonna leave me, Talanji, my Queen, never, not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span> could take ya from me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started fucking her in earnest, her hips slapping against the ceiling now dripping with all manner of plants, ferns and philodendrons and creeping aerial roots of big-leafed monstera all crowding around them.  They were dying as they got close to the two of them, but more plants grew out of the dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slammed his knees against the stone, pulling his hips back and his hands went to her hips, dragging her against him roughly, setting a fast pace that she wasn’t in a position to refuse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Talanji was certain that she could never have mated a mortal troll.  The focus, the intensity, all of Bwonsamdi’s attention on her was enough for her to feel branded inside and out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> and when he’d first split her open like a ripe peach she’d thought she was going to die from the sheer pressure, and then after her body adjusted, the pleasure.  She’d never known she was empty, but this… Her hands and feet were tingling and her voice couldn’t work for anything but wild noises, her whole body sparking with magic and pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now he was controlling her hips, moving their width against his own and she had the presence of mind to turn his linear movement into a roll like a wave.  Long forgotten dance lessons as a girl came back to her, and she reached one hand up to his shoulder as he kneeled over her, gravity pulling her down onto him.  She ground her hips against his, keeping him buried deep, and with no warning all of the pressure that had been building in her exploded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He roared as she did, her body spasming and she felt the first wave of pleasure crash against her, turning her vision into a shower of stars as he grew even bigger inside of her, his huge form collapsing on top of her as he filled her in sharp thrusts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her senses were so strong, she felt his seed flood her, felt the fact that her own body would make no child, felt the life and death of the plants around them and further, to the worshippers outside of the temple and the ragged holes in the world where the undead were and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes popped open and she gasped in fear.  Instantly, Bwonsamdi tensed and his magic surged around them.  She clutched him to her and whispered quickly, “Bwonsamdi, something’s coming, something </span>
  <em>
    <span>big-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt it a second after he did, like the hand of a true God come down to crush them, and the instant it washed over them she was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That took too long to get out, I apologize.  I spitefully bought a house and moved, and it sapped all of my energy.</p>
<p>I'm gonna start playing hard with some lore because let's be real, the whole thing is held together with strings made of overcooked spaghetti as it is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. And the dark places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talanji had closed her eyes in instinctual terror as the wave of power had washed over them, and when she opened them again, she gasped.  She was in the meadow from her dreams, naked and still covered in dust from the Necropolis, bits of lichen clinging to her hair, and his seed coating the top of her thighs.</p><p>She took one breath, then two.</p><p>She reached across the bond of loa and Queen but felt nothing.</p><p>A brisk wind stole over the meadow, ruffling the bright red pomegranate blossoms, and she clutched her arms over her breasts and shivered slightly.  She was truly, honestly, for the first time in her short life, alone.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rakera woke up to a thunderclap and a blaze of blue fire in her sleeping quarters.  Her mate, always a heavy sleeper, did no more than let out a gentle snore and turn her beautiful face away from the light.  “My love,” Rakera muttered, “You are lucky I am here to keep you from getting slaughtered in your sleep.”</p><p>Her mate drooled onto her thick magenta braid in response.</p><p>Rakera wanted to kiss her, but the seething mass of loa taking up her sitting area proved to be a remarkable distraction.</p><p>“You’ve killed for your queen,” was the first thing out of his mouth when she looked at him.  He was larger than he normally was when he approached the living, the top of his hair touching the vaulted ceiling.  He crackled with wild energy, his eyes filled with blue fire, and the primordial part of Rakera’s brain shouted for her to run away; this was something <em>lethal </em>in front of her.</p><p>“Yes,” it was a whisper torn out of her sleep-rough throat.</p><p>“You’ll do it again.”  It was a command.</p><p>“Yes.”  She licked her lips and rubbed one eye.  “Who do I need to kill?”</p><p>He snarled, eyes blazing white-hot, “I haven’t figured that out. Talanji is gone.”</p><p>Rakera froze, hand still on her eye.  “What?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bwonsamdi was barely aware of what he was doing.  Everything in him was focused on Talanji, her spaces in this world, and what was left of her in them.  Rakera was her shield, so he took her.</p><p>He told her a very abbreviated version of the events that had taken place, Rakera absorbing the debriefing like an experienced soldier.</p><p>“The first thing I must do,” she said calmly, “Is ensure that none of our citizens know this is happening.”</p><p>He snarled at her, “I need to get her-”</p><p>“Back.  Yes, I know.  I understand, but these are Talanji’s people.”  Rakera held her spear tighter, her uniform well-worn and bearing the marks of her service.  Bwonsamdi was terrifying right now, but performing well under frightening situations was what had earned her the rank and responsibility she now carried.  “She is somewhere that I cannot reach, Bwonsamdi. Somewhere only you can go, Loa of Kings.”</p><p>Her use of the title sparked something in him, and his sharp eyes trained on her.  She waited for two heartbeats for him to say something, then continued.  “In her absence, it falls to the council to protect and rule the citizens here.  No matter how much any of us love Talanji, her subjects come first.  I am a part of that council.  I must remain here.”</p><p>He’d spirited them away to the Necropolis, loathing to be away from the plants she’d grown during their lovemaking, and he turned his burning gaze to them now.  Her magic still hummed in them, keeping them growing in this dark, dank place.</p><p>He breathed in deep, fixing her scent deep in his memory, and snorted.</p><p>Rakera was also looking at those plants, one brow ridge raised.  “So, you two-”</p><p>He swung his head back her way and glared at her.  She stared back at him.  Rakera, he decided, was entirely too unafraid of him.  Something about his bond with Talanji made her not take him seriously as a threat.  His blood was up, and he decided to fix that here, now.</p><p>“Yes,” he purred, his eyes narrowing.  “We’re one.  Mated.  She’s mine until the world itself falls, and even after.”</p><p>He turned his whole body towards Rakera.  She clutched her staff a little tighter, and he lifted one side of his mouth in a grotesque grin.</p><p>“If ya tell anyone, put her in danger, do <em> anything </em> but keep her people safe while I fetch her, let me tell ya what will happen.”</p><p>Rakera was trembling now, and Bwonsamdi swelled larger, filling the Necropolis with his energy.  She opened her mouth, but before she could try to speak, Bwonsamdi’s deep, dark voice resonated around them.</p><p>“I’ll take ya wife, that pretty little thing in ya bed, and I’ll put her in the darkest hell I can imagine.”  His eyes were aflame with cruelty, and he was absolutely certain that Rakera would not forget, any time soon, that he was a loa powerful beyond her imagination.  “The Maw,” he whispered, “will be a daydream by comparison.”</p><p>Rakera was staring at him with wide eyes, as if she suddenly realized what it meant to be before the Loa of the Dead, and before she could react, he waved his hand and banished her back to her home.  Let her cuddle that soft, supple wife of hers, let her get ready for the day, let her do anything but stand there and remind him that Talanji was, once again, out of his reach.</p><p>As he drifted up to try and sift the scent of the deity that had taken her from the overpowering aroma of their lovemaking, he thought faintly to himself that he’d been right.</p><p>Bwonsamdi in love was a terrible, lethal thing to behold.</p><p>He closed his eyes and breathed deep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“That, my dear, took far too long for my taste.  But, at last, the deed is done.  The bargain struck, the deal sealed.”</p><p>The tree was talking.  It must have been the tree, because there was nothing else around.  Talanji stood where she was, shaking, straining to control her magic to feel <em>what </em>was happening in the world around her.  This was no longer a dream; this was a reality.  Her feet felt the pebbles beneath her, she shifted and a thistle scraped her thigh, insects were landing on her spine, drinking in the sweat, and her hair was full of moss and lichen.</p><p>“What?”  She croaked out, her voice still hoarse from moaning.</p><p>The very wind itself sighed, then the tree trembled and reshaped itself.  The woman who unfolded out seemed to be as tall as the sky itself, even though her head was at the same level as Talanji’s.  Her skin was brown bark, hair the trembling leaves interwoven with pomegranate blossoms, and her eyes were glowing chips of aquamarine.</p><p>She was clothed in the same style Talanji had been in the dreams, soft white pleats of fabric and organic golden ornamentation that held it in place.  She gave a smile that didn’t reach those eyes, like the expression was foreign to her, and she said, “Hello, Talanji, Queen of the Zandalari and mate of the Loa of the Dead.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rakera was dumped on her bottom in the middle of her sleeping quarters.  The first thing she did was flip over and stare at the bed, where her mate was rubbing her eyes and stretching her legs out, looking for Rakera’s warmth.</p><p>She scrambled up and threw herself on top of her, worming her arms under and around, burying her face in that delicate hollow of throat and collarbone.  Her mate reflexively clasped her own arms gently around Rakera’s back, murmuring, “My love, where did you-”</p><p>Rakera answered her without hearing what she was saying, and the only thing running through her mind was that her Queen, her <em>friend</em>, was now tied eternally to a monster.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Talanji kept her hands over her breasts, mouth clamped shut, and stared warily at the woman across from her.  She tilted her head and smiled.  “He’s looking for you.  Even now.  He’s going to tear the world apart, trying to find out what happened.”</p><p>She stepped effortlessly through the field, skirts whispering through the big bell-shaped flowers, and Talanji noted that this form was very obviously just a magic construct.  The power was overwhelming, but the grass sometimes passed through those handsome wood grain legs.  Insubstantial.</p><p>Even if she wanted to fight, Talanji very much doubted that anything she could do would cause this creature any kind of injury.</p><p>“Do you know who I am?”  A cascade of leaves and flowers as she tilted her lovely head, and a cluck of disappointment as Talanji silently shook her head.  “I suppose you wouldn’t know, being on that little island.  So isolated.  I’m sure you’ll find out when the time is right.”</p><p>She stalked closer, entirely predatory, and Talanji stayed in place only through her own sheer will.</p><p>“The important thing,” the creature breathed, when they were face to face, “is that I know who you are.  I know who, and what, Bwonsamdi is, and how close he is to usurping power that he <em> does not understand </em>.”</p><p>Talanji opened her mouth and found her tongue refusing to move.  She was bound to silence by magic so powerful it needed no words.  This creature was pure witchcraft, it oozed out of her, and Talanji found herself trembling in the face of it.</p><p>“You don’t need to speak,” the creature, becoming wilder, vines snaking over her shoulders and up her thighs, twining around her waist and down between her breasts.  “You don’t need to think.  You need to listen.”  Those seafoam eyes were so close to Talanji’s own.</p><p>“Bwonsamdi is going to become a beast,” she breathed, “He’s been investigating what Mueh’zala has been doing for so long, little bits here and there, keeping his own dangerous secrets, but it’s all going to happen so quickly.  He’s going to take that power, with the help of those Azerothian Champions you and yours are so fond of, and it’s going to rule him.”</p><p>She waved one bronze hand through the air, trailing green sparkles of magic, “Normally, you understand, this isn’t something I would look into.  What these little loa do on their own limited time is none of my concern.  It happens, flows through time, and is forgotten into dust.  But the Shadowlands are threatened, that horrid banshee grabbing power beyond what she was ever meant to have, and now-”</p><p>She tilted her head back, and as she did, Talanji found that her own head was forced to move.  Above them, the reality was broken.  Not just broken, but completely <em>shattered</em>.  The chunks of bright blue sky, like thick glass, suspended around a ragged hole that was full of something dark, evil… watching.</p><p>Whatever was in that darkness saw Talanji.  <em> Knew </em>her.</p><p>“Now, that power may be the only thing that keeps this reality in one piece.”</p><p>Those strong hands grasped each side of Talanji’s face and made her look at the creature, the goddess, one more time.  Her face was strained and desperately unhappy.  “This is all I can do.  Bind him to you, give you my gift, and the knowledge that you will have to learn how to wield the sheer amount of power that will pool between the two of you.  I cannot interfere much more than that.”  Even as she spoke, threads of green and gold power started to go from her fingertips into Talanji, bright pulsing magic flooded her veins and Talanji <em>felt </em>herself shift further from mortal into something more, something terrible, something beautiful and powerful.</p><p>“Why me?” she croaked past the silencing spell, shoving her power back in control of her body.  Her arms uncrossed and her hands came up to clasp the being’s wrists, adding more points of contact for the magic to flood into her.</p><p>“Because,” the goddess closed her eyes, “you are the first mortal in a long time to best him, guard him, defend him, and treat him with respect.  You were bound in more ways than your father could have ever understood when he made that foolish bargain.  And,” her eyes opened to a limpid azure, the color of the harbor of Dazar’alor on the sunniest days, “Despite yourself, Talanji, you fell in love with the only creature that would guard the souls of your people as fiercely as you guarded their lives.”</p><p>The power grew too much, too hot, too fast, and Talanji held those strong wrists tighter as the goddess whispered, “You’ll protect him, your people, the entire planet, and beyond, Talanji.  I know it.”</p><p>Her world narrowed down to blinding flashes of color before her body succumbed to the onslaught, and she knew no more.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bwonsamdi snarled into the darkness, unfolding himself from The Other Side, and slammed his fist into the Necropolis' stone wall.  Nothing.  He’d bounced through every pocket dimension he could think of, and still no sign of her.  He’d even poked his head into Oribos for half a second to see if he could feel the tug of their bond in any of those floating afterlives.</p><p>The only place left, the only one he hadn’t tried…</p><p>Mueh’zala had a particular feel to his power, his magic, and the wave that had stolen Talanji hadn’t carried even a whiff of it.  But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t behind the whole thing.</p><p>Bwonsamdi flattened his lips together and blew a breath out of his nose.</p><p>It had been a risk, making De Other Side.  Hiding away those souls, keeping the power of the Maw away, all right under the nose of Mueh’zala.  Bwonsamdi was many things, not chief amongst them prideful, but he was extremely protective.  Both of the souls of his followers and, now, of his Queen.  His mate.</p><p>And for her, he would conquer that terror and go to, literally, meet his maker.</p><p>He vanished in a slow, powerful role of blue-black flame.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay!  I'm pleasantly surprised by how many people are reading this little story of mine, and I've been desperately trying to play up through Shadowlands to get to Da Other Side dungeon.  This part doesn't so much require knowledge of that, so I think it's more or less okay to put up.  This one is short because the next one is going to be muuuuch longer.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Where</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talanji woke to the goddess kneeling over her, frowning deeply.  “It’s too soon,” she said, her voice distant.  “I had hoped for more time to keep you here, show you how to access and manage what I’ve given you.”</p><p>The goddess sighed out her nose and raked one hand through her leafy hair.  Talanji blinked up at her, feeling the thrum of the power racing under her skin.  “What-”</p><p>“It’s not going to be enough,” the goddess interrupted her.  “It’s going to hurt, Talanji, but I’m going to have to change my plans.  In order for you to have enough power, enough control, I have to push your mortal body even further.”</p><p>Her eyes were bright and sympathetic.</p><p>“No,” Talanji brought one blue arm up weakly, trying to push the goddess away.  Her arm passed through the construct, and that little movement made her tired enough to sob.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the goddess murmured, “But I’m going to have to break you.  And I’m going to have to do it now.”</p><p>Before Talanji could protest, scream, find the energy to fight back, her consciousness was drawn away from her once again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The second time she woke, there was another goddess, this one all calm blues and judgemental eyes, hands clasped demurely in front of her, flowering antlers proud and tall behind delicate brow ridges.</p><p>Talanji found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.</p><p>“If we let you feel your body,” the blue goddess said, her voice resonating around Talanji like a cold stream, “You would die.  The pain would be,” she searched for a word before pursing her lips, “extreme.  My… compatriot went a little overboard.”</p><p>“Can you help me fix her?  I tried, but something didn’t work.”</p><p>The wooden goddess, if that’s what these beings even were, came into the edge of Talanji’s vision and didn’t even look at her.</p><p>“Did you even tell her who you are?”  The blue goddess arched one slim brow.</p><p>“I fail to see how that’s relevant,” she snapped, more red blossoms opening in her leafy hair.  “We’re running out of time.”</p><p>The blue goddess stared at her in stony silence.  She then turned those near-glowing eyes on Talanji and gave a small, beneficial smile.  “I am not accustomed to apologizing, especially for the actions of other deities.  I am the Winter Queen, protector and provider for Ardenweald, in the Shadowlands.  This is Eonar, who is considered a Titan Watcher, born from the soul of a planet.  Do you know why you are here?”</p><p>“Bwon... sam… di.” She gasped out, and found the effort beyond exhausting.</p><p>A short nod, then, “I bear that loa no love, but yes, Bwonsamdi is going to do something very drastic, very foolish, and ordinarily I would not become involved.  However, you are something of a special case, Queen Talanji.”</p><p>
  <em> Something out there has designs on you, Talanji, and ya best be aware that it’s probably not somethin’ I can protect ya from. </em>
</p><p>Her heart started to race, and her eyes went between the two unearthly women, and she swallowed.</p><p>The Winter Queen continued gently, “You are a remarkable individual, Queen Talanji.  Devoted to serving her people, her lands, and her loa.”  The queen knelt, deep blue skirts rustling, and suddenly Talanji realized she was submerged in water.  Cool hands reached in and cupped Talanji’s cheeks, smoothing over her skin, and the Winter Queen whispered, “Would you do anything to help them?  Save them?  Protect them?”</p><p>“Yes,” she breathed, and it was without a second thought.</p><p>The Winter Queen smiled and it transformed her face from stoic into painfully beautiful.  “You are uncommonly loyal and brave, Queen Talanji.  You will serve your people for a long, long time.”</p><p>The water turned warm, the same temperature as a warm patch of late afternoon sunshine in her bedroom, and she found her eyelids drawing down.</p><p>“Sleep, dream, and when you wake, you will be reborn.”</p><p>She was too tired to be afraid, so she drifted off to deep slumber.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>As soon as Bwonsamdi set foot in The Other Side, Mueh’zala barked out a harsh laugh, “I felt ya comin’ for me, boy.  I decided to make it <em> easy </em> for ya.  Here I am, in this sad little dimension of yours.”  His form was enormous, filling up the empty space of the center circle of the walkway, and Bwonsamdi reached out with his power and made sure that all of the troll souls were hidden from view.  His dimension was small, mostly larger walkways, four hallways and plenty of hidden pockets for the souls he personally guarded to rest.  Mueh’zala made it look absolutely tiny.</p><p>Mueh’zala’s form was terrible.  Huge, bulking muscle, skin that looked like it had never seen the sun, a rough white mane of hair and those huge, sweeping, spikey tusks.  His eyes, though, were two pinpricks of cruelty set in the ugly mask of his face.  Bwonsamdi stretched himself upright and sneered.</p><p>“Been a long time, Mueh’zala.”</p><p>Almost before he was done speaking, the chains hit him.  Glowing a deep, evil purple, his own magic failed to hold them off.  The chains wrapped around him, binding his arms to his sides and his legs together.  Mueh’zala chuckled and drew the chains in slowly.</p><p>“Been too long, boy.  Ya grown soft, weak.  <em> Askin’ </em> when ya should be <em> takin’</em>.  I’ll show you how a real loa handles power.”  He spat the last and made a fist.</p><p>The chains squeezed all of the air out of his body and Bwonsamdi gasped.  A barrier came around him, sparking with power.  It pulsed around him rhythmically, and he felt the drain start.</p><p>“No,” he shouted, struggling in earnest.</p><p><em> “Yes,” </em> Mueh’zala hissed, that gross multitude of tusks distorting his smile into something evil.  “I’m gonna take ya power, Bwonsamdi, I’m gonna take ya secrets.”</p><p>He stepped closer, his huge form fracturing the circular walkway.  Bwonsamdi started to frantically send instructions through his power for his souls to evacuate through the hole he’d ripped to Ardenweald.  The Winter Queen borderline hated him, but she would never reject a soul in need.  They’d be better off there than in Mueh’zala’s terrible hands.</p><p>“And then,” One enormous hand came up to engulf Bwonsamdi’s mask, and with a sharp tug and unworldly strength, Mueh’zala ripped it right off his face, “I’m gonna take ya life, Bwonsamdi.  And I’m gonna make it <em> slow.</em>”</p><p>His only consolation, and bigger concern, was that if Mueh’zala had known about Talanji and taken her, he would have surely used it to taunt him.  It didn’t help dull the pain, nor did it stop his screams from echoing around his tiny little dimension.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Talanji’s body was humming, vibrating, and she felt like it was barely holding together.  Maybe she was made of light, or gemstones, or glass, some delicate material waiting to fly apart.  Or maybe she was made of pure power, no longer with a body, and that’s why she felt this buzzing all around her.</p><p>“Awaken, Queen Talanji.”</p><p>Her eyes opened of their own accord, and she took in a deep breath.</p><p>The Winter Queen and Eonar were standing side by side, chins raised, and each one reached out a hand to help her up.</p><p>Immediately, Talanji knew something was different.  Before, she had felt dwarfed by Eonar, her power radiating from her with the power of a sun.  From in the pond, The Winter Queen has seemed a dozen feet tall, made of myth and legend.  She’d felt small, mortal, nearly eclipsed.</p><p>Now, she was able to stand up straight and look them in the eyes.  She felt… equal.  She didn’t let go of their hands and neither one retracted them.</p><p>“What-”</p><p>“I am an Eternal,” The Winter Queen interrupted her.  “Ardenweald, my realm, was built by me for the purpose of helping powerful souls from all of the worlds to rest peacefully before being reborn.  Wild Gods, loa, kings and queens and any remarkable soul devoted to service.”</p><p>“I am a Titan,” Eonar said next, her voice serious and solemn, “I am the patron of all life and nature, born of the soul of a world in the Great Beyond.  I have charged countless beings with protecting life, creation, and nature.  I have the ability to heal that which others cannot, birth what others may not, and love even the unlovable, who surely need such grace more than any other souls.”</p><p>“We are bonded as sisters by purpose, by duty, and by love.”  The Winter Queen reached one of those pale hands, so did Eonar, and they clasped them.</p><p>“Now,” they said together, “we elevate you, Queen Talanji, to a new type of being, created by purpose, duty, and love.”</p><p>Power started to flood into her from their connection, filling her and expanding her to where she thought she would burst.  It burnt new pathways under her skin, settled into her soul and heart, and became a bright fire in her belly.  She breathed out sparks of gold and blue, and suddenly the world around her came <em> alive. </em></p><p>It was like being in the forest around Silvermoon City, digging her feet into the soil and being able to feel all of those little plants around her.  Like reaching inside of that dead bird in Bwonsamdi’s hand, etching out the seed and prodding it to grow.  Similar, but multiplied infinitely.  She could feel <em> everything</em>.  The birds, the fish, the plants, the very earth was ALIVE.  It was like she was seeing through a thousand pairs of eyes, and she struggled to make sense of the data washing over her.</p><p>As suddenly as the sensation started, it stopped.</p><p>Eonar was looking at her carefully, then she smiled apologetically.  “I’d been feeding you that gift for months now, but this timetable is significantly faster than I wanted.  I’ll teach you to get control of it, but for now I’ll help lock it away.”</p><p>Talanji felt the power shrink down inside of her and lay dormant.  Still there, she could reach out and poke it, but she couldn’t call upon it and right now she was only too grateful.</p><p>Before she could think about any other powers, she blurted, “Where is Bwonsamdi?”</p><p>The Winter Queen and Eonar exchanged a glance before Eonar answered, “Nowhere good.  This space is compressing space-time, so we can spend longer here to train you before you go… fetch him.”</p><p>The Winter Queen’s lips compressed into a single line.</p><p>“Your… plan.  You had a plan?  Did you… force me to…” Talanji sputtered.</p><p>Eonar swept up one brow and studied her as she went silent.  After a measured look, she slowly started, “Your soul burned brightly, ever since you were born.  You… called to us.”</p><p>
  <em> Something out there has designs on you, Talanji. </em>
</p><p>“You were destined,” The Winter Queen interjected softly, “for greatness.”</p><p>Eonar tilted her head, one blossom turning inside out, swelling into a heavy pomegranate that rested against her shoulder.  “Everyone noticed how easily you called the loa, it was easy to push a natural gift just a little further, every time I reached out to touch you.”</p><p>“The bird,” Talanji breathed.  “Bwonsamdi said I would be drawn to plants first, then-”</p><p>Eonar was nodding, even as The Winter Queen rolled her eyes.  “Speaking of Bwonsamdi,” Eonar said seriously, “He has done something very rash, and we need to help you understand how to help him.  The rest can be explained after.”</p><p>The Winter Queen took over, letting go of both of their hands to raise her own above her head.  Talanji felt the magic gather between them, and it appeared as a white and blue ball, sparking and radiating glitter.</p><p>“Feel what I’m doing,” she intoned, and with a nod of encouragement from Eonar, Talanji stepped forward and rested her hands on top of The Winter Queen’s.  She could feel the way the magic was curling in and around itself, being compressed by the air around it into a sphere, the center concentrating and wanting to be free, to explode.</p><p>“If you hit a mortal with this,” The Winter Queen said, “They would be in pieces.  This is the only trick I have time to show you, even with the strings Eonar is pulling with this place.  We have to hope that you’ll be able to master it enough to damage Mueh’zala and steal Bwonsamdi away.  We cannot hope to train you enough to kill him.”</p><p>Talanji nodded, eyes on the sphere, and then she stepped back.  “Let’s get to work.”</p><p>Eonar and The Winter Queen both smiled at her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Back in Dazar’alor, Rakera had developed a constant headache.  It was morning, and she hadn’t slept since Bwonsamdi had thrown her back into her room.  It had taken everything in her to allow her mate to go to her job instead of keeping her by her side.</p><p>The air above the Necropolis had turned blood red, and the shrine itself seemed to be shrieking.  Bwonsamdi’s most senior worshippers had been petitioning for an audience with the Queen.</p><p>“Where is Talanji?” asked Lashk, blinking his eyes slowly.</p><p>“The queen,” said Rakera slowly, “is currently indisposed.”</p><p>Everyone in the Council Chambers looked at her incredulously.</p><p>“Would her being ‘indisposed’ have anything to do with the Necropolis?” Wardruid Loti asked, with an exaggerated innocent expression.</p><p>Rakera ran a hand down her face.  She made a tactical decision to reveal her full hand.  “The Queen is gone.  Talanji has been taken, and Bwonsamdi is… upset.”</p><p>“Taken?” Hexlord Raal sat up straighter, and everyone looked at Rakera.  “How, General Rakera, could she be taken?”</p><p>“We don’t know,” she responded curtly, “But there’s more.  The Queen is, as of last night, mated.”</p><p>Nobody spoke.</p><p>“The ‘we’ in that statement,” High Prelate Rata started softly.</p><p>“Is myself and Bwonsamdi.” Rakera confirmed.  Damn the consequences, the Council had to know.  Rakera was good at her job, always had been, but she couldn’t cover this up on her own.  This wasn’t one servant, this was the <em> queen </em> and now they had to make <em> decisions. </em></p><p>Nobody spoke for a long minute, then Lashk took out a scroll and quill.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Rakera snapped.</p><p>“This is the first time a loa and a member of royalty have been mated!” He said excitedly. “I have to record this!”</p><p>Without her prompting, Loti snatched that parchment right out of his hands.  “Not now, Lashk.  We can’t let the kingdom know.”</p><p>“What do we do,” said Jo’nok, his huge bulk barely fitting in his chair, “about the <em> people?” </em></p><p>They looked at each other and Rakera let out one big breath.  This was something she’d prepared for.  “I don’t know when the Queen is coming back.  For now, I’ve drafted up a version of government that is ruled by the appointed bodies, that being us, and we make decisions based on consensus.”</p><p>She pulled a long scrap of parchment out of her pocket, unfolded it from the neat squares she’d pressed it into that morning, and set up the first version of a republic that the Zanchuli had ever seen.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mueh’zala was laughing.</p><p>Bwonsamdi was bent over, his blood dripping slowly off his ruined face, barely coherent.  The chains were really the only things holding him up, and even then he felt like he might just slip through them.</p><p>When his followers had been murdered right under his nose and his power had dwindled steeply, he’d grown thin and haggard.  This, the slow sapping of his power felt like that, but more insidious.</p><p>“Ya making it too easy!” Mueh’zala exclaimed, still laughing.  “So easy to break, Bwonsamdi?  Why ya not fighting back, huh?”  He tossed the mask up and caught it.  “Did this hurt so bad, little <em> priest?” </em></p><p>Bwonsamdi kept his eyes on his feet, declining to open his mouth.</p><p>Mueh’zala reached forward, grasping his hair and tilting his head back.  “Maybe it didn’t hurt enough, huh?”</p><p>Bwonsamdi’s backplate was actually attached to his body by stitches.  He could choose to shed it, like he had when he had mated Talanji, by essentially severing it from the straps that were embedded in his back and shoulders.  It was a small matter for him to manipulate the matter to reattach it at his will, but right now all of the power he could concentrate on was holding the door between the Other Side and Ardenweald open, and he felt each soul as it went through the curtain. He’d managed to save so many, and now he was going to die before he trapped any of them here with Mueh’zala.</p><p>He did wonder, with a great amount of fear, what him ceasing to exist would do to Talanji, but his first duty was to the multitude of troll souls that he cared for.  She was a big girl, he told himself, and she could take care of herself.</p><p>So he was faintly aware of what was coming and did not dare to divert any of his power to mitigate the damage when Mueh’zala ripped the backplate from his shoulders.</p><p>It took a considerable amount of force, and both his hands, and he held the plate up triumphantly while Bwonsamdi wailed, and neither one of them saw Talanji coming.</p><p>Her ball of magic hit Mueh’zala full in the face and sent the backplate flying.</p><p>Bwonsamdi turned his face to get the blood out of his eyes and looked toward the latest hole ripped into his dimension.</p><p>She was standing there, bigger than he remembered, and she was absolutely <em> seething </em> with magic.  Power exuded from her in waves, and even as he watched she seemed to double in size.  He was stunned when the differences came to him.</p><p>She was… <em> glowing</em>.  It was the only way to explain it.  She was practically shining with magic, but also with <em> gold. </em>  Her towering crown was gone, replaced by a simple circlet of star moss and delicate stalks of anchor weed.  Her braids now reached down to the tops of her thighs, and a large population of them seemed to be woven with heavy golden beads.  Her arms below the elbow were now shining gold, heavy angular patterns that wove close together and shimmered with magic, all converging on her hands.  They were so bright it hurt to look at them.</p><p>The last he’d seen her, she’d been naked, and now she was wearing a plain white dress that was split up the thigh.  Her wrists and ankles were heavy with gold bracelets, some of them shining with gemstones, and she had a high gorget at her throat set with a fire opal the size of his palm.</p><p>“That,” she said and <em> oh </em> but he nearly moaned at the sound of her voice, “is my mate.”</p><p>And then he was wishing he could have shut her up, because she had said exactly the <em> wrong thing. </em></p><p>Mueh’zala had been knocked back, ruining the other side of the walkway, and now he turned his face to her slowly.  One of his tusks was cracked, and the way that his tongue tested the inside of his lip told Bwonsamdi that she’d probably hit him hard enough that he sliced it open on his stupid dumb teeth.  Bwonsamdi saw him look her up and down, then he smiled.</p><p>It was not the kind of smile that Bwonsamdi wanted to see him send to Talanji.</p><p>“Mate, is it?”  Mueh’zala looked delighted, and he turned to Bwonsamdi.  “Naughty little loa, you didn’t tell me about <em> this.” </em></p><p>The last thing he saw was Mueh’zala and Talanji staring at each other, before Mueh’zala closed his fist.  The chains tightened, the siphon flared, and Bwonsamdi knew no more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this is only a little longer than the last one, but I did the big reveal!  Eonar differs from her normal appearance here because of the pomegranate tree, because if I was a nature goddess I'd be changing my looks up CONSTANTLY.</p><p>This is going way off the rails from what's currently happened in the game, and a big part of that is that I can't see Mueh'zala having Bwonsamdi in his grip and NOT being insanely cruel to him.  So excited to post the Mueh'zala/Talanji showdown.</p><p>Is Talanji a loa??  An Eternal??  A Titan???  Stay tuned to find out!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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